Legs of fear
by Silvyavan
Summary: After a freak accident during middle school leaves one Kobayakawa Sena traumatized but somehow alive. Now in a compromising position concerning his life, Sena isn't sure if he should live in fear of slipping up or put his life in someone else's hands. Then Mamori reminds him of highschool and suddenly death by demon contract doesn't sound so bad.
1. Accident

Sena was unlucky. He was incredibly unlucky. He just didn't think it would be this bad.

He was running from a bunch of thugs when it happened. He'd been running from them for a week now, hoping they'd just leave him alone.

They apparently did not. In fact, his evasion of them had only made them angrier. He had barely gotten out of the classroom unscathed and was now flying through the streets, hoping to get away or at least lose his pursuers.

Shopping districts had given him cover and he was now running though a rural residence area. He didn't know if they were still chasing him but looking back would take his eyes off the road and he was already going at some sort of speed limit.

But he didn't hear them so it was alright to stop, right?

Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around the block. A few people who were giving him weird looks but besides that nothing. A sigh of relief escaped his lungs.

He was safe. For now. He couldn't believe that they actually left him, but he decided not to jinx himself.

He couldn't help but be depressed. Yeah, he'd avoided them but for how long would that last? A month? A semester? A year? He doubted it.

Would Mamori be ashamed of him? Would Riku be ashamed of him? Maybe. Possibly. Definitely.

He sighed to himself. He's having that same conversation in his head again. He already knew the answer. No point in getting caught up over nothing.

'Now just to get back home...' He thought, taking a left. Houses here were lovely but unfamiliar. The streets were wide enough for but lacked zebra crossings. 'That could be dangerous..."

He wondered of he could retrace his steps and hopefully get somewhere familiar-

"LOOK OUT!" Someone yelled out.

Sena's eyes widened, he barely had time to turn his head when a car was already barreling towards him. When did that came from?! Why didn't he hear it?!

His feet pushed against the concrete, adrenaline fueling his muscles before he realized. 'If I jump to the left, I'll get hit by my legs. If I jump to the right, it'll just ram straight into me.'

"It's too late, it's unavoidable now."

And suddenly the world turned dark. Pain seared through his body.

When Sena came to, his head was full of cotton and his ears were ringing. His vision was fuzzy and-

Was he dying? Now? So quickly?

A million thoughts suddenly crossed his mind.

He was dying oh god, this was bad, this was horrible- Was he really just going to die?! He wasn't even in high school yet! He hadn't even got to the point of trying out for entrance exams! He hadn't done anything in his life to make his parents at least-

His parents.

He dreaded thinking about his parents. Their only son, their only child was going to die from a car crash. His dad would be devastated, his mother- he couldn't even imagine.

Would there be a funeral? Was he even recognizable? How would his childhood friend-

"Hey, child with the frizzy hair." Sena realized he can hear again. And that someone was talking to him. "You've gotten yourself into quite the predicament."

A shadowy figure crouched down, shifting his head to look at them. Sena searches for details, traits and other sorts of things but all he sees is a cane in scar ridden hands and a young man who doesn't seem to be all that bothered by the blood seeping through Sena's clothes. Was this person a foreigner? Sena's brain can't exactly fathom that at the moment, not when precious brain matter and blood is seeping out of the side of his skull.

"But do tell me," Red eyes met amber. "Do you want to live?"

Sena pondered over the question. He would live? He could survive-

But something stopped him. Would it- would it really be better if he was still alive? Did he have something he had to do, have any responsibilities to uphold?

Nothing came up.

What was he to the world? He's not sure how Mamori saw him anymore. Maybe he looked like a meek animal in need of protection that she felt obliged to protect? Was he a burden on her back? Was she better off without having to hold his hand everywhere?

Maybe.

Would anyone come to his funeral? He's not sure if it would even be necessary. Would Riku remember him? Would he be heartbroken by the news of his death? Does he even remember him? Or did he forget?

Possibly.

What about his parents? He wasn't really good at anything, or passionate. He just was. He simply existed. And he'd probably still simply exist. There wasn't anything he could make his parents proud with. But would they be happy? Happy that their only child, who tried to be something of person, was dead?

No. But is it really better that way?

"No-Not really." He croaked out. "But my parents would be sad."

"Wow, that's it?" The person seemed surprised.

"That and my childhood friends."

"No ambitions? No life goals? Anything like that?"

"All i can do," Sena breathed out. "is run fast."

"Well, that's not perfect, but it's enough." The voice said and the next thing Sena felt was nothing but pain, hot blistering pain. "Let's hope you don't end up like the others, Mister Empty Legs."

Sena passed out for the second time that day.

The second time Sena wakes up, it's to something small and sharp poking his face. Continuesly.

Sena groaned awake, swatting whatever is on his face away. There was soft cooing from ahead of him and the poking returned.

Sena just wanted to sleep for a little longer-

"Ack!"

Suddenly, the memories of last night hit Sena like a truck. His eyes snapped open and he jumped into a sitting position. The cold night's wind was biting into his clothes as city lights were flickering beneath him. A few curious pigeons had stayed behind but it seems that the majority had left. His breathing was ragged. His head snapped back and forth. He was in a park, a park he recognized. It was probably no less than 20 minutes away from him but the sky was no longer blue. The sun was already setting on the horizon, leaving a faint orange hue on the surroundings.

He looked over himself. Clothes? Check. Bag? Check. Copious amounts of injury? None.

Was-? Was that car crash just a nightmare? Did he trip, fall on his head and simply stayed that way for a few hours? Or was he hallucinating because some form of monster had slipped something into his-

The longer he thought, the more tense he got and his hands clenched. He felt paper in his hands.

Looking down, he noticed there was an envelope tucked in his hands. Words written in blue ink caught his attention.

 _"To Mister Empty Legs."_

His eyes widened. That name! So what happened wasn't a dream?! He- he-

He actually died...

But he's still there.

Questions and erratic thoughts plagued Sena's mind.

Was he a zombie now?! Did he have cravings for flesh that would kill the people around him?! Or was he ghost possessing a human body? Could he even grow in it anymore? Is he going to spend the rest of his life as a human midget?!

But most of all, would he age? Would he still be able to age or will he be forced to see everyone grow, gain families and-

Sena was hyperventilating. Shaky hands dropped the envelope on the bench as he curled himself into a ball. Tears were pickling at his eyes as sobs were ripping themselves from his throat.

"Hey, are you okay?" A firm hand rested upon his shoulder. Sena tensed upon the contact. He didn't even hear the person. Whipping his head around, he saw a black haired teen, probably about 15 or 17, he couldn't tell or maybe he just didn't have anymore energy. The teen looked...tired. Not tired in terms of exhausted but tired in terms of emotion.

'Me too.' Sena thought. Sour thoughts were almost consistently present now.

"I - I," Sena croaked. "I don't know. I just, don't know."

"Something bad happened I assume." Sighed the teen. He plopped down next to Sena's back. "I'm Takeru."

"Sena."

"Sena? That's a nice name." Mused Takeru.

"How? It doesn't mean anything special." Sena brought his knees closer to himself.

"Well, I'm not one to know, but it's a good name. It's short but memorable."

"You don't have to." Sena knew where this was going. "I'm not going to... do what you think I was gonna do."

"Still. You seem to have had just as bad of a day as me. Misery loves company as they say."

"Doubt it." Sena mumbled. He doubts that anyone would have experienced something as bad as dying and still breathing.

"I got kicked out of my dream school from abroad." Except that. "Worst part is I didn't even know why. They just...kicked me out. I was one of the best students there, too. But i know it's because somebody who was higher up just hated me." Wow, that was even worse. He felt Takeru turn to him. "Y'see, I'm into this sport that's pretty specialized and demands good physique. I really liked this one sport, heck, I got into that school through a recommendation of how good I was! But in that school, there was this one guy, a real asshole if I can say, who just thought that "if you're not born at the top, why bother climbing up?". And that pissed me off so much! But I grit my teeth and just kept going and going on with my training. Then, one morning, Bam! I get hit with all these accusations and weird charges I didn't commit and they want me to drop out! And worst part is, he had the nerve to boast in front of my face! The nerve of some people!"

"That's horrible!" Sena exclaimed, tears now forgotten. "You shouldn't have your future ripped away just like that. And only because-" His voice died down in his throat.

"Yeah but it doesn't seem as bad as what you probably had. I don't know how bad your day must have been."

"I..." Sena hesitated. He couldn't say anything about what happened but still. He wanted at least someone to know how he felt. A stranger with no strings. " I lost a close relative today. He was...very important to me."

"I- oh, my condolences."

"He and I were very close, even if we rarely saw eye to eye." He couldn't understand even himself sometimes. You were told to stand up for yourself, yet you couldn't. "He was a coward even if he tried to be someone else. He often couldn't go anywhere without someone else because a lot of people kept picking on him. He got chased around and was made to do whatever someone told him to. He couldn't say no."

"But he always did it for others, right?" Asked Takeru as he placed a warm hand on his back. It was a gentle, comforting even. Most of the physical contact he had other boys his age were punches or threatening arm slings. Sena was caught off guard. It felt...nice. Overwhelming but nice. "That person sounds like someone who, while a coward, would rather suffer himself than let others suffer because of him."

A warm feeling creeped up in his chest. Had Sena not felt emotionally constipated, he would have wanted to hold the feeling as close as possible.

"No, he wasn't!" Snapped Sena. "He was a coward who couldn't grow a backbone, he couldn't even muster up the courage to tell a few classmates to leave him alone and look where that got him!"

Sena tried to stifle a choke. He wasn't anything like what Takeru was thinking. He just wasn't.

"I'm sorry. I... I need to go. My parents are probably worried."

"...Yeah, okay." And with that, Sena grabbed his bag and letter and sped off to the exit of the park. For some reason, the ground seemed firmer and he could feel his usually fast pace go by smoother. Why was it like that? It's almost as if gravity had less impact on him.

"Oh! By the way!" Yelled Takeru. Sena halted in his steps and turned his head. "I like that tatoo on your neck! It's really elegant! If we ever meet again, could you tell me where you got it?"

Sena felt his blood turn cold. Tatoo?! On his neck?! What the hell?!

"S-suregottago _bye!_ " Sena yelled as he ran to the exit at breakneck speed. Only to stop in front of a crossing. His muscles stiffed on their own.

His body didn't want to move, still replaying that half second of momentum and ripples of pain.

Sena shivered. When did it get so cold? And what if a car came out of nowhere again? What if there was another crash with more victims? What if-

He really didn't want to get hit by a car again. Looking around himself, he saw a familiar alleyway and immediately ran in.

Before he made his way into a familiar neighborhood, he stopped by a closed shop. He undid his collar and-

There. From his collarbone to the base of his Adams apple, orange swirls, circles and dots marked his skin. It was bright, eye catching and just screamed delinquent.

 _When did he get this? How did he get this?!_

If he wasn't already dead, his mother would kill him.

He poked at it, only to feel an almost too warm sensation. That was not normal.

But Sena would worry about the definition of normal later, once he's survived the day without landing in another near-death situation. Metaphorical or not. If it happened once, than what's stopping it from happening again?

He redid his collar and jacket, hitching it up as much as he could without it falling back (thank whoever decided on dress code he was still in middle school and had to wear gakurans). After that, it was a mad dash home. Well, not really, more like a mad dash to avoid the street at all costs.

As he stopped in front of his front door, he wondered. Even as his body moved on autopilot, he could only imagine the consequences. He didn't even check his phone before running off home, his mother is probably worried, dad's already back home.

This was going to be bad.

Opening the door, he barely had the time to announce his presence when his mother came running out into the hallway.

"Sena!" Oh no, he knew that voice. She looked mad before she looked over him and both fear and relief filled her eyes. "Sena, what happened to you?!"

Only now did Sena realize that his clothes looked absolutely horrible, tattered and dirty, missing fabric in a few places.

"M-mom, I- I can explain-"

"Sena, do you know what hour it is?! Where were you? And what happened?!" Mihae demanded. His father had walked into the hall, with Pitt hot on his heels. The vat then quickly trotted up to Sena and was meowing up a storm. However, the minute the cat got to Sena it sniffed him and immediately began to yowl. The cat was now clawing up his pants, almost as if demanding something.

 _Does Pitt know?_

"Pitt! Stop that!"

"Mom-" Sena wanted to say but his heart was pumping in blood far too hot for his liking. His tongue started spinning lies as he went. "I- I think somebody tried to mug me."

"You think?!"

"Wel- well, they were driving a car-"

"And?!" Mom was beginning to look terrified.

"They kept trying to hit me, I think. But they wouldn't leave me alone."

Mihae's eyes were close to spilling tears.

"I, I think somebody tried to run over me. A few times."

"How many times?!" Sena's father finally said.

"What time is it?" Sena asked, trying to think of a logical answer. Think, Sena, think. What would a psychotic driver would have tried to do?

"Eight. Eight o'clock."

"..." Sena's brain barely registered the words that came out of his mouth. "I think I kept running from him till seven."

* * *

Sena groans into the water as he recalled what had happened almost half an hour ago. His parents had reacted both in alarm and wrath, with Sena just barely managing to convince them that he didn't have any injuries, no he didn't get hit, he managed to avoid certain death, no he did not see who was chasing him, he's perfectly fine, no need to involve the police, Dad.

And now his mother had demanded that he cleaned himself up. He looked like he had just crawled out of a ditch.

Pitt patted the water next to Sena. The cat had refused to let Sena out of its sight, even if it meant hiding in the hamper to wait for him to wash. Pitt...has never been this clingy. Or even this attention seeking.

"What's the matter, Pitt?" He finally asked. He raised a hand to the cat, who pressed it's head to it, despite being wet. It shifted in his hand so that its ear would be pressed towards his pulse-

Oh. So that's it. Pitt must have found what they were looking for, because in the next moment they retreated into the hamper.

Sena sighed as he thought back to what happened today.

First he sort of died. Somehow, the fact still chilled him to his core. The warm water only made him even more unnerved. The fact wasn't enough to drive him into tears but it felt close. Just too close for comfort.

His thoughts drifted to Takeru. The boy who had, in some sort, lifted the a small weight off his shoulders.

He remembered his dark hair, tall complexion and sharp eyes.

 _"But he did it for others, right?"_

His eyes were sharp, full of emotion and pride. He carried himself with pride but didn't flaunt it.

Sena closed his eyes. The warmth of his hand on his back was still there. He traced his fingers on the spot, trying to remember the notion.

How long has it been since he had a friend who wasn't violent with him? Sure, there was Mamori but Mamori didn't have a single bad bone in her body! At least he thought so. Plus, Takeru was a guy. A guy who didn't try to beat the hell out of him or threaten him into doing things for him. Was Takeru even his friend?

He saw Takeru looking back at him, eyes soft and-

 _"You do it for them?"_ Sena saw Takeru brushing his hands against his cheek, the motion was barely felt for only half a second. Those eyes that were full of pride but that pride was directed at him.

Sena snapped his eyes awake and nearly fell backwards into the tub. His heart was pounding and the warm feeling was back in his chest.

Oh. _Oh._

 _No, this was bad._

First, because Takeru and he met by chance and they'll probably never come across each other again. These- these feelings would rot him from the inside out before they could meet again.

Second, Takeru was a guy. He just doesn't know what to think of that because Sena's general association with tall, cool and kind looking guys is a liar who's too lazy to get off his ass. He... Is not sure if he should follow his heart that's beating in his chest or the brain in his head telling him Takeru would leave him for dead from experience.

Third, he only just met him! Just barely met him! Logic states that one cannot fall in love just from one talk but Sena quickly realizes he's bad at math, thus bad at logic.

What if it's a crush? Just a simple crush. Alright, alright. This is probably a crush and crushes can go away if you don't think about it too hard. Okay. Yeah, that's probably it. And since Takeru and he will probably never see each other again, he'll get over this crush long before he gets into high school. Great.

Sighing, he decided to get out of the tub. It was already late and he had school tomorrow, which meant doing homework that he was inevitably going to suffer with. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the scales. He rarely checked his weight but that lightness he felt while running. Carefully walking to the scales, he stepped on them to wait for the result. Last time he checked he weighed somewhere around 48 kilos.

The scales stopped at a number. _38 kilos_. To which Sena's mind promptly came to a screeching halt.

That... couldn't be right. Or healthy. He weighed at least 45 kilos. Why was he suddenly ten kilos lighter. That's probably an arm's worth of mass! Stuff like that just doesn't dissappear! Ten kilograms don't just dissappear in who knows how many hours!

A deep fear made itself known in Sena. That man who said he'd help him survive-

Just what did he do to Sena?

The humid air was bitting into his skin but Sena felt like he was burning on the spot.

* * *

When Sena came back down for some reheated dinner and more questions for his well being, he was more intent on going back upstairs to open that letter.

Homework was all but forgotten as Sena grabbed a sharp pencil and began to rip a hole into the envelope. Upon being ripped open, a folded piece of paper fell out. Sena grabbed it and began looking over the words written on it.

" _Dearly valued client,_

 _You are reading this because you have been visited by Belial services, due to the fact that you have unfortunately nearly passed away. However, due to the generous favour of our CEO, you have been granted a second chance for a discount price!_

 _If this text is written in red, then you will no doubt experience changes in yourself that give you superhuman statistics, due to your strong will to live and ambitions!_

 _If this text is written in blue, then you will no doubt experience changes that show that you are now able to function without specific organs/extremities/senses or are able to regenerate them, due to your weak will to live (please seek a therapist)_." Sena realizes that the text is written in blue and wonders if he was caught by organ traffickers. Does getting life advice from organ traffickers can be considered a therapy session?

 _"Your current properties that you are able to live without - bones! While you will be able to function like any normal human, your bones will have the characteristics of practically not being there! However, to use this to your maximum caliber, a person/people other than you is to call your name backwards thrice. The minute your name backwards is said, you will have 24 hours to say goodbye to your loved ones as one of our contractors will seek you out to collect your soul, preferably the one who found you dead. Think wisely before doing so._

 _Kind regards, Belial Services for the Dying."_

Sena's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He was missing bones?! Or, at least was given the impression that he had none?! What the hell was this! And who named their own company that?! Was he visited by a Shinigami?!

Sena tried to calm down, rereading the letter. Bones are now practically not there, cool, dangerous but cool.

What if he breaks his bones? What if they take him to the hospital for a check up? Things such as "bones weighing little to nothing" was already enough to be scared for. Would that mean that he'd die if he got even a little hurt?

"What would it matter?" Sena asked himself bitterly. "I'm already dead, aren't I?

"Maybe I'll stay till highschool?"


	2. Hiruma

Hiruma knew an uncut diamond when he saw one. There's always that one part that made them stand out- the way they walk, the way they talk or even the way they analyzed the crowd, it always showed.

What bothered him truly, was why the fuck did he not notice the 21-karat red diamond that was Kobayakawa Sena, who was in Maou middle for three fucking years, until he literally ran in front of him.

It had been a simple grocery run to Hiruma which ended with him watching the five foot nothing shrimp plow through the crowd at a speed that made the wind pick up. If by some damned chance Hiruma hadn't noticed the kid, then it seemed like mother nature would get him to look. The shrimp made sharp turns and twists all over the crowd, clutching his bag to his chest. There was a wild, manic look in his eyes as they surveyed the crowd. There's no doubt that there was a clear run through the crowd into the street which lead to the subway, but the shrimp would have to go at full fucking speed and would that be-

But one look at the street and Kobayakawa had run the opposite direction. There was a hitch in his footwork, a flash of fear in his eyes and he immediately decided to go the long way to the subway.

Which was to say through the back alleyways.

What the fuck?

Was there something in the street that made him go the other way? A quick sweep of his eyes on the street concluded that no, there wasn't even the threat of a dog there. So what made that shrimp take a longer, more tiring path than going the quickest way to safety?

Hiruma's legs moved on their own when he ran after the student. He knew he couldn't catch up but as long as he had his eyes on him, that was enough. He needed to see this for himself.

And saw he did.

The shrimp ran like the fucking devil himself was chasing him. Jumping on stairways, cutting through crowds and damn near jumping over cars - Hiruma had almost forgotten how to breathe.

That run right there was 4.3 seconds, at least. Pure and unfiltered runningback material. An uncut diamond, internally flawless, river clear and tinted in that rare red colour that was so hard to find in the world, that was made only through training paved in blood.

And if Kobayakawa Sena was that type of diamond, which he knew he was, Hiruma would cut and polish that into a jewel so bright, the Luxembourg Museum of Diamonds would feel shame.

Homework, or even anything concerning school, was forgotten as Hiruma went through school records upon school records to look for information.

It was the beginning of the year, so chances are that if the shrimp had decided to go to a school that wasn't Deimon, Hiruma would pull some strings that were a little too heavy for his tastes but still.

He's pretty sure he was the only person who noticed that potential. Good. If anyone from a track club in any other school had seen that, Hiruma was partially sure he'd have to get into a fist fight for that kid.

Lo and behold, Deimon was the shrimp's first choice school. The menacing grin that split on Hiruma's face was big enough to hurt.

By ten o'clock, Hiruma had everything on the shrimp, from his bullying problem to his Deimon test scores, as average as they were, dropping at English and Maths.

Grades were shit, surprisingly good at sport but only the running type, is almost always coddled by that girl from the committee, five foot nothing, about 50 kilos and-

Terrified of _cars_?

That raised some questions. Seeing as how he was a gopher most of his life, did that mean he had to run through traffic just to get on time?

Now that he thought about it, it did explain why he avoided the street that time and traveled by train every time.

But the more he dug, the more worried he became.

Refuses to go to the nurse's office. Wore the gakuran throughout the whole third year of middle school. Joined the occult club and left the same week. More often than not looks apathetic to bullies but still runs and tries not to get hit. Comparing second year and third year pictures from the records, Kobayakawa looked like fucking shit in third year, eye bags and a surpressed manic smile coupled by a bandage on his face - the whole fucking package.

For fucks sake, just what sort of dip in attitude did this shrimp cake go through in the last year of Maou?

He'll have to do that later, maybe force the answer out of him.

After all, the best information comes from the source. And if Kobayakawa Sena is to be next Eyeshield 21, then he needed to be on the top of whatever performance he has.

 _As they say, a healthy mind resides in a healthy body and vice versa._

 _Ya-ha_!

* * *

Sena wasn't sure if rushing to the school was worth it. The underlying feeling of dread and fear kept his legs moving until Deimon was in sight. He'd managed to get on time, sure but was he really going to get in? Deimon wasn't exactly a bad school with little to no students, but Mamori had him prepare for the entrance exam almost a month prior to it.

Sena was terrified of the notion of even getting out of bed when exam day rolled up. But he somehow managed to write the exam, even if the fingers in his hands kept telling him 'it won't matter, it hasn't mattered for six months already, why should it matter now?'.

He never told Mamori or his parents the truth. He just couldn't, not after seeing their reactions about the sugar coated lie. Especially Mamori's, who'd practically glued herself to him for two weeks whenever she wasn't in school. The constant worrying, paranoia and overprotective nature made it seem like she was the one targeted.

That didn't mean she didn't notice his shift in behavior. Avoiding cars and the street in general was something she ignored. Or chose to ignore. Sena never knew. Either way, she never questioned it. Forgetting his lunch almost every day and walking as if the ground could swallow him up and he wouldn't care was something she noticed.

Long story short, Mamori felt like it was her fault that he "got mugged in the worst way possible". Sena had tried to convince her it was his own fault but that seemed only to break her heart more. Sometimes Sena wondered if it were better if he had just died that day.

But Sena kept telling himself that no, Mamori may be extremely worried now, but he just has to try and somehow live until she graduates, goes to a top of the line university- it's what she deserves- and for her to forget about him overall. Because this worrying can fade. It will fade.

If Sena had truly died that day, Mamori would have never forgiven herself.

He couldn't do that to her. He shouldn't. She's strong, he knows that, but knowing an important person died because of a chain reaction of events that could have been avoided will hurt anyone.

It's even more so for his _parents_ -

"Sena! Over here!" Sena's head whipped around to see Mamori in the crowd. Sena rushed over to her, standing near a large bulletin board.

"Just in time too. They put out the list of first years." Mamori said. "Your English and Maths were pretty bad, but you were always Mamori-sensei's favorite student."

"Maybe but that doesn't mean I'll get in just for that. I'm pretty sure I failed- I should just leave-" Sena said. He really, really didn't want to stay. There was an underlying feeling dread and misery radiating from the entire school. Like something was watching him in particular.

"Not true! You studied hard, I'm sure you got in. What's your number?"

"It's 021. Mamori, you really don't have-"

"There!"

Mamori pointed to the number 021, conveniently placed on the roster with the people who passed.

"I- I made it in." Sena said, voice hinting at both disappointment and astonishment. He really got in. The number on the board matched his. He wasn't expecting to pass, or rather he didn't want to pass, but-

Was he really just tired from the anticipation? Yeah, maybe that was it.

"Anyway, hopefully this year will go by better." Mamori said with a sad smile.

"I wouldn't count on it." Sena laughed bitterly. "Knowing my luck, it'll be a week at most before something happens."

"Sena, that's not true. Maybe in Maou middle there was a bullying problem but the committee isn't as strict there. This year will be better." Mamori said as she put a hand on Sena's shoulder. Sena wanted to say more but the menacing feeling was growing stronger.

"Anyway I have a committee meeting soon, so I have to run. Can I trust you to at least look over some of the clubs?" Mamori pointed out. Sena nodded soberly. He could try and at least get interested in a club. Maybe that might cheer Mamori up.

Sena had always felt a little bit responsible for what followed after the crash. Okay maybe quite a bit responsible. Or very much responsible. If he hadn't taken a wrong turn...

"Alright, bye Sena!" Mamori called out before running towards the school building.

"Ah, bye!" He said, waving goodbye.

Truth be told, Sena's experience with clubs was very... _limited_. The only club he's ever been in was Maou's occult club and that was only because of necessary research. Such as borrowing their entire demonology encyclopedia stash and rummaging page through page, hoping to never find the name that man and that Belial services were called that simply because they had some occultism motif.

Sena had been proven wrong and in his eyes he'd practically solidified his fears of being dead. The only thing that was different was the fact that after his soul leaves his body, somebody is going to drag him into hell to suffer for dying early in life.

But hey, at least there were no demons in the school.

"No, that would be stupid." Sena said to himself. Demons don't go to school. Or rather Sena's never met one in school. Were the ones who hid among students harder to spot? Or were they all business oriented? _Maybe-_

As Sena's eyes trailed along the building he spotted someone hiding behind the corner-

Sena's knees immediately felt rigid and his eyes widened. He's partiatlly sure his heart is being drowned in adrenaline because, God, why him. It _couldn't_ -

There's no way he just saw a demon. But that person's piercing eyes, sharp teeth and pointy ears, of all things, were making warning bells ring in his head. Sena's hands flew to his eyes to rub them haphazardly-

 _Nope_! He's not hallucinating! This is _**real**_! This is reality and the demon with the horrid expression has a friend the size of a car!

Both of which are headed his way!

Sena tried not to curse on any occasion but shit!

Sena didn't even realize he was running before he heard somebody yelling at him not to run in the halls. Wait, the halls?

Sena's legs skidded to a halt and he was panting. Not from exercise, but from the fear and panic that was causing his legs to suddenly gain a mind of its own. He wasn't hyperventilating but he was close.

Sena realized he was close to entering the sports building and that he had ran across the entire school building without much thought. The passage was overall empty but that could mean anything.

Okay that was _bad. This was bad._

There's a demon in the school, a demon who has a scary looking friend and does that mean he's already been caught?

Do they know? Is that why they were walking towards him? Or did they have some business in that direction?

Sena's mind was running circles around itself.

Wait, maybe this is all a misunderstanding. Maybe they were looking at somebody else that was behind him! Yeah that had to be-

"Where do you think you're going, shrimp?!"

Sena's head whipped around to see the devil running straight at him and Sena wondered if this is how he's going to die.

Sena's legs immediately went into overdrive and he jumped out of the passage and began running towards the building.

Maybe if he asked one of the clubs, he could hide in one of their rooms for the day and in return get them lunch for a month. Wouldn't be a bad start.

Sena dove into the building and ran through the halls until his eyes saw the first room.

 _Basketball club._

The door rattled as he flung it open, causing the three members inside to look at him.

"You have to hide me! Please!" Sena exclaimed. He probably looked like a mess but who cared honestly, his survival was at stake here. "There's somebody chasing me and-"

"Whoa, whoa slow down, buddy. Calm down, talk slowly." One of the members - a third year - raised his hands in a motion while watching him.

"There's this scary guy, he has sharp teeth and blond hair-" Sena said as he entered the room and tried to close the door.

"Sharp teeth?!"

"Blond hair?!" The other two members exclaimed.

"Did he have pierced ears and an aura that just screamed "demon"?" The third year went rigid.

"Yes!" Sena exclaimed. "Please, he's chasing me and-"

"Kid, you're a first year?" Asked the third year. Sena shook his head in affirmation. The third year grabbed his shoulders. "Word of advise - if Hiruma Yoichi is after you, don't bother hiding. Just run, run for life and don't look back."

Sena has never felt so afraid in his life. The name didn't even register in his head. The person who was chasing him wasn't just horrifying to him, he was horrifying enough to have a reputation. A well known reputation.

"Now get the hell out of-"

The door was kicked open. Sena didn't need to turn around and see who it was.

Scratch that, now Sena has never felt so afraid in his whole life.

Sena ripped himself from the grip and ran for the window.

'I'm on the first floor, I can-'

It never crossed Sena's mind that the window might have been closed and Sena ended up running into a wall of pain and bounced off into a stray desk, falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

A long whistle could be heard from the room.

"Don't destroy whatever braincells you have left, shrimp. We need a walking typhoon like you with a sane mind, ya hear?!" Sena heard footsteps approach him. Sena's heart was beating inside his head and his joints felt the need to move and run until they'd fall off. Heat was spreading through his fingers to his palm, from his toes to his ankle.

"Please don't kill me." Sena blurted out from under the mess.

There was a moment of silence before a loud boisterous laugh erupted from above.

"Clean your ears shrimp, we need you well and alive. And by that i mean less well and more alive. So tell me," The voice leaned down and Sena came face to face with the demon that was Hiruma Yoichi.

"How much do you know about american football?"

Sena's mind came to a halt. He had heard about american football, yes, but only the bare minimum. If this was a test that determined if he would be dead or alive, he'd try to at least get a right answer, as vague as it could have been.

"Y-you get the ball."

"What goes next?"

"You run, t-to the goal."

"Continue."

"But you get hit a lot."

"How many points for a touchdown?"

"More than one?"

The blond demon stared at him for a moment before an evil expression appeared on his face.

"Good enough, shrimp! Tomorrow morning, seven o'clock. If you're late for even a minute," Hiruma paused before jabbing his shotgun in Sena's direction "Let's just say you won't missing for long."

Sena was terrified enough to pass out. The last thing he felt before the world turned black was getting picked up by the collar and the distinct question "Wait, _why are you so fucking light?!"_.

* * *

When Sena woke up, he was no longer in the sports building. No, instead he was lying on something very hard with a soothing hand rubbing his back.

That- felt nice. It felt a lot like when Takeru helped him somewhat survive the day that was six months ago. Warm, firm, understanding and most of all, honest. But something about it was different. Maybe the tempo? No, it must have been the shape of the hand. This one was thinner than Takeru's, rough edges appearing along the fingertips. Takeru's hands were stronger, a bit thicker with a layer of muscle covering the bones. There was the shape of- oh great, he's thinking about Takeru again. For all the six or so months that have passed, Sena had absolutely failed in getting Takeru out of his head. In fact, the more he tried to get rid of him, the more he thought about those _sharp eyes and the way the sunset made him glow-_

 _No!_ Stop, brain! That's counterproductive!

The hand had left Sena's back and the small runner had almost attempted to reach out for it.

"Hiruma, maybe we should wake him up before noon, he can't be absent the whole day. Someone will notice."

"I'm trying, fatass."

Instead, the rigid hand had moved from Sena's back to his cheek. At that point, Sena's mind had thrown all logic to the wind.

Sena had rarely let anyone touch his face. Both out of fear of his parents and Mamori seeing bruises that were hard to hide and out of the fear that someone would manage to see the tattoo that Sena had tried so desperately to hide since the day he got it. The only hands that were allowed near his face were his and his alone.

So when the rigid hand cupped his cheek, Sena all but melted into the hold. Calloused and bony fingers, no doubt from lots of work in either crafts or making small parts of machinery. A wide palm, muscular, probably good at throwing things. Sena nuzzled the hand, softly whining at the contact. Firm, warm and strong. It felt so nice. Sena almost fell asleep in the hold.

"...Hey, fatass, your dad sometimes consoles the people that come to him for advice right? This is definitely a sign of domestic abuse."

"Hiruma, my father's a monk, not a therapist. And maybe he's simply starved for affection?"

Sena really wished the voices above him would quiet down so he could sleep...just a bit...more... He nuzzled the firm hand as the thumb went over his lips and onto the other cheek to grip his face. The hold may seem authoritative but for some reason Sena felt safe in these hands.

"For a little shit who lost a fourth of his weight in six months, he's got soft cheeks. Fuck it, you wake him up. I have research to do and a match to plan. If anyone else tries to drag the shrimp into a club, stop them."

And with that the hand left. Sena let out a small whine at the loss of contact. His face was now pressed against something smooth and cold, like the mats they used in gym.

There was the creek of a door and a close before a large hand gently shook him awake.

"Excuse me? Kobayakawa? You need to wake up, lunch is almost over." A gentle but strong voice said as the shaking continued.

Wakefulness was coming back to Sena as he opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" Sena pondered. His eyes hurt from the light coming into the room. He looked at the person who was helping him. It was a student from Deimon, judging by the uniform. The boy was helping him sit up on...whatever he was lying on. His head still hurt, no doubt from flying head first into a window.

"You're in in the American football club house. We carried you here after you passed out since the nurse technically doesn't work on the first week. Do you think you can stand up?" The boy was holding him by his forearm with his other hand on his back.

"Yeah, i- I think I can. You," Sena wasn't really thinking at this point but the words were all but coming out of his mouth. "have very rigid hands."

The student, looked confused as Sena stood up. The student then took his hand away and looked at it quizzically. Sena also glanced at the hand and- oh. That was certainly not a rigid hand, not with how soft looking it was.

"Oh, do you mean the hand that was before that?" The student suddenly asked. Sena all but nodded. "That wasn't mine. That was Hiruma's. He was the one that suggested we bring you here. Your run back then was amazing!"

Sena's mind came to a halt once more. Hiruma? That name rung a bell but Sena couldn't quite remember from where. He remembered hearing it from some place... But what Sena is more interested in is Hiruma's hands. A small part of his mind thinks of those long fingers intertwined in his, the firm hold keeping them from slipping away. An even smaller but no less louder part imagines both hands holding his face as Sena _gazes into whatever eye-_

 _Oh. Oh no, please no, not again, he already has his unrequited crush for Takeru to worry about! He doesn't even know what this Hiruma looks like! What if he's a jerk!?_

"Yeah! You ran all across the school in record time! We saw you and just went- whoosh! It was like seeing a bullet fly through the air!" The boy continued. "Hiruma even said complimented you!"

Sena stared at the boy in shock. He was...complemented? For running? He couldn't get his head around that.

'I was complemented for running by this Hiruma.' Sena repeated in his mind. A warmth spread in his chest, something fuzzy and uplifting.

"Well, at least his way of complementing. He described you as a 'fucking whirlwind of destruction' and 'fast enough to make the fucking wind pick up'! That's technically a complement from him." The boy continued.

"He said that?" Sena asked. It sounded like Hiruma had a very...colourful vocabulary but that didn't seem to be a sign of a bad personality, right? There are lots of people who curse but still mean well! Like for example the convenience store owner from Maou middle who he's well acquainted with at this point. The owner even drops the price sometimes during the lunch period but still cussed out the delinquents who ask why it's only for a few hours.

"Yeah." Suddenly the boy realized something important. "Oh right! We haven't introduced ourselves yet! I'm Kurita Ryuokan, second year."

"Ah! I'm Kobayakawa Sena, a first year." Sena replied, taking a low bow. "I'll be in your care?"

"Ah, that's okay Sena. But you should really should head home soon. You've been asleep for almost four hours!" Kurita supplied.

"Four hours?!" Sena nearly screamed. "That's- i-"

"Well, it's a good thing the entrance ceremony isn't today."

"I- well- Y-yeah it certainly is."

"By the way, Sena, are you thinking of joining any clubs?"

"Well, I'm hoping of joining one-" Sena can see Kurita perk up at that. Continuing the sentence almost seemed painful. "But I don't want to do anything sports oriented. I- I'm just no good at that stuff."

If it's one thing that terrified Sena the most about his bones being, well, not there was how was he going to survive physical education. If he was hit with a ball to the chest, there'd be no ribs to protect the organs. If he got punched by a bully, what's stopping his brain from receiving damage? Sena had been avoiding physical education for a while now, until it was unavoidable. The good thing is that none of his organs exploded or crushed in on themselves when he tackled by somebody during one of the games they played. The bad thing was that it hurt so much, Sena nearly blacked out.

'I couldn't even react fast enough keep my life.' He thought bitterly.

"Well, there are other positions in sports clubs which don't have a lot to do with playing the sport. There's the manager. In fact, the American football club has been in need of a manager for a while now!"

"Manager?" Sena's attention was caught. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be in a club, especially a sports oriented one. But Kurita seemed so nice, nicer than most people Sena knows. And that Hiruma-

Damn it brain, stop! Enough with the crushes!

"Yeah, I could fill you in if you want to be the manager, but that could wait for another day. Your parents must be worried!" Kurita supplied, handing Sena his bag. Sena nearly smacked himself. He's been out for hours, no doubt probably forcing the two second years to wait for him to wake up. Of course Kurita would have to go home at some point, as well as Hiruma.

"Right! I guess I'll be going."

Sena was about to reach for the knob before realizing why he was here in the first place.

"Kurita? Can I ask you something about the school?" Sena faced the second year. "Are- are there any demons in this school?"

Kurita was now staring at him. Sena wanted to kick himself for asking such a question.

"You mean like hauntings and curses? No, not that I know of. Surprisingly enough, we're not cursed, even if most of our sports teams aren't doing that well."

Sena's shoulders sagged in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. I guess I'll see you at the ceremony then!" Sena replied as he left the building.

As he walked back home, Sena couldn't help but feel himself tense. If that demon wasn't part of the school,

Then why was he there in the first place?


	3. New life

Sena had begun to look forward to school. Less forward to school and more forward to what it brought for once.

He kept trying to narrowly avoid Juumonji and his two friends, seeing as how they became less insisted on bullying and more focused on what happened that day when he died.

They began to question him, corner him and demand answers and kept doing that more than telling him to get lunch with the threat of a punch to the face. He never knew how they got ahold of the information but when they did, Juumonji had all but started hunting him down for answers. So Sena ran from him as much as he could.

But that was middle school. Sena was now in highschool, and hopefully Juumonji and his friends went to another school, hopefully on the other side of town.

The hopes of that drop like a rock when Juumonji corners him at the school after homeroom.

Sena felt stupid for jinxing himself. The day had gone surprisingly calmly and he would have gone to the football clubhouse to talk to Kurita if Juumonji would have just stopped prying about everything.

"Hey, answer me, Kobayakawa!" Sena came back from his wistful thoughts when Juumonji shook him by his shirt. That was going to need to be ironed later. He's glad he started investing in concealers because no way in hell was the collar of his shirt going to protect him forever.

"I- I didn't hear the question." Sena replied, avoiding looking at Juumonji, focusing more on the view behind him. Like the soccer field that was currently occupied by the football club's first training of the year. Tryouts were going on.

"You know the question damn well. Now answer." Juumonji shouted at him.

Sena sighed. The encounters with Juumonji were terrifying at first but now they feel like ripping off a bandage.

This was highschool. Six months ago Sena couldn't even stomach the idea of getting to highschool alive, wondering if those red eyes would just come out of nowhere one day and demand payment. He still does. He still gets dreams about it. Some weren't half as bad. Some he couldn't even remember correctly. Some were vivid ightmares of dark streets and flashing lights kept him up at night, waking him at early hours with his body pumping adrenaline for a threat that wasn't there.

'But was it?' Sena always asked himself. Paranoia made him reluctant to investigate. Guilt made him reluctant to talk about it. The future made him feel like he was walking on a crumbling floor.

Either way, Sena had wanted to do something for the first time in his life. Or maybe that's just the promise he gave to Mamori talking. He's not sure. Maybe he wants to be someone more. Maybe he doesn't want be a complete disappointment to Mamori while she's still in touch with him. Six months of avoiding people was...calm.

"Juumonji." Sena started. "Why?"

"Hah?"

"Why- why do you care so much? Why do you care what happened to me?"

"What do you-"

"No, what do you mean?!" Sena exclaimed. He wasn't going to be an asshole in front of what could be the first friend he's made in years by standing him up. "Why do you care, Juumonji?! Why do you care about someone you hate?!"

That caught Juumonji off guard. His grip on the shirt slackened and his eyes widened. It almost seemed like he was panicking.

"You treated me like one of your delivery boys for all of middle school. You made me late for classes, you bullied me, sometimes you even beat me up. I don't know how you were raised or who your parents are but,"

There was a boiling heat at the back of Sena's throat, like a glass of hot lead just wanting turn everything into ash. Sena shoved it down.

"But to me," Sena croaked. "It seems like you just don't care that much about me. So why? Why then? Why now?"

Juumonji's hand had let go of him but Sena still refused to look at him.

"I-"

Before he could finish, a gunshot rang from the clearing.

* * *

Hiruma had gotten a little more than pissed off when the shrimp hadn't shown up in the morning. Even more so when he didn't show up after the entrance ceremony. The fucking fatty was getting depressed too. Something wasn't adding up. If the shrimp was looking forward being part of the club, manager position be damned, he was going to show up to the club in the first place.

The shrimp had things to do, like run the forty yards for the runningback position to prove to the fatty what he meant and answering his questions/interrogation as to why the fuck he looked at Hiruma like he was the fucking devil. Yes, his reputation was an omen to all but not that fucking much.

So Hiruma went hunting. And what did he find? One of those weird ass synchronized brothers was pushing him up against the wall as the shrimpcake was trying to grill him with psychological questions. The one who was known to stalk the shrimp cake back in middle school.

This will not do. If the blond was making the future ace late, he was going to pay for it accordingly.

The first shot was to get their attention. When the shrimp looked at him, he went pale (again? he better not fucking run this time), pushed Juumonji to his right and told him to run.

A good introduction as to what is to come but as they say, if Hiruma could say. But time was of the essence and the shrimp was already late.

The blond apparently did not take the shrimp's reaction well.

"I suggest you listen to him or you'll end up like the others." The shrimp's muscles clenched as if he just wanted to go and run to the other side of town. Like he wanted to just run and run until he couldn't anymore. Like Hiruma was something that he'd rather choose death for.

Hiruma has seen this type of behavior in very few cases. The time when somebody who knows exactly what's about to happen and is trying to put himself in between the threat and another person. Dogs with abusive owners that got new ones, good ones, often got in between the abuser and the owner. Like they know what's about to happen but better themselves than somebody else.

To know that Kobayakawa Sena was terrified of him, like he's about to gut him on the spot, brought Hiruma a new type of revelation. Kobayakawa Sena has experienced something bad enough that just the sight of Hiruma is enough to put him into a state of utter fear.

Somebody took this one of a kind diamond and made it so that Hiruma couldn't even _touch_ it without putting a crack in it.

 _Oh, the desire to kill somebody was growing by the minute._

"Why the fuck should I? You know this guy, Kobayakawa?" Kobayakawa kept looking at the guy like a fish grew out of his ear.

"Juumonji, what are you- nevermind, just- get out of here! Now!" The shrimp was now trying to push him to the other direction. This was going nowhere. Hiruma started walking towards them. The shrimp took this as a warning count down. "Juumonji, please, I'm begging you. Just- go home. Please."

That _please_ at the end. Fuck. It sounded so broken. Hiruma enjoyed making people fear him but shit, not like this.

Who hurt this kid?

Juumonji seemed to take the hint, well enough, and after a moment of silence and a glare directed at him, he left.

The shrimp was just standing, his back to him, shoulders hunched and shaking. His knuckles were turning white and Hiruma could hear his ragged breathing.

Hiruma kept walking until he reached the shrimp.

Fuck, this did not go how he wanted this to go. Okay, time to use those good emotional words Hiruma hates.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Hiruma asked, voice as neutral as possible. The kid fell still, but his breathing had only quickened. Fuck, wrong words. Fuck it, he's doing it the best way he knows how. "Do you know how much the fucking fatass has been getting depressed over you? Why aren't you hauling ass to the clubhouse already?!"

No response just more uneven breathing. Not a good sign.

Hiruma touched Sena's shoulder and Sena all but exploded like a grenade. His legs stumbled out under him, trying to go every direction at once, his eyes were glazed over and looking at anything but him. His breathing went into overdrive and his hands went to his neck. They went to his neck as if to protect from an attack.

This was a full blown panic attack and Hiruma just barely managed to catch him before hit the ground.

God, he forgot how light the shrimp was, too. If Hiruma could pick him up with ease, it meant nothing good.

"For fucks sake, _breathe you midget!"_

Sena was hyperventilating and shaking, he wasn't responding no matter how much Hiruma shook his shoulders. Suddenly an idea came to mind. If this worked while he was asleep, then it might work now.

His hands went to Sena's face and cupped both of his cheeks. His whole form went rigid but he was calming down. For a while Sena was simply staring at the ground. Tears were forming at the corner of his eyes but he was trying to blink them away.

"I-" Hiruma's ears strained. Alright, coherent words were a good sign. _"I'm not dead?"_

Back to square one it seems.

"Shrimp, I told you once I'm not saying it again. We need you alive and well." And mentally stable because fucking hell this was bad. Whatever, Hiruma could work on that later. As well as drilling a hole in the shrimp's thick skull. Does anything even go through that thing?

 _"Alive."_ He began. "That's... hard to believe."

Okay, this was just fucking depressing now.

"It is, considering how fucking late you are!"

The shrimp's brow furrowed before the look of horror cast itself on his face. God damn it, not again.

"Kurita! Oh no, how long has it been- nevermind I have to hurry. I can't keep him-" The shrimp all but ripped himself from the hold Hiruma had on him and ran in the direction of the clubhouse. That 4.3 second run again. So the shrimp wasn't planning on chickening out, huh? Saves him the trouble and the blackmailing. Not that he needed it apparently. The shrimp is terrified enough it seems.

Suddenly the shrimp skidded to a halt and turned to him with a low bow.

"I'm- I'm sorry for causing any sort of ruckus and- i- thank you for helping me." The shrimp nearly screamed that out before turning and running all the way back to his original destination.

Hiruma was...a little bit confused. And concerned. Furious was also an adjective for the current predicament.

The shrimp had a panic attack because of him and he's thanking him? Him? And what fucking ruckus is he talking about?

What the fuck?

He glanced down at the gun he had dropped. Fucking shrimpcake was going to be the one cleaning it, that's for sure.

* * *

Sena was feeling a lot of things. Worry. _Shame. Fear._ _Embarrassment_. Self hatred. And maybe a small sense of relief.

Worry and self hatred because he was supposed to see Kurita and meet Hiruma in the clubhouse almost half an hour ago. He's so stupid, he couldn't believe he got that caught up, maybe he should _have just told Juumonji and-_

 _No._ No if he told Juumonji everything would have gone on for even longer and Sena couldn't afford to have that.

Because if it had, Sena had enough of a bright imagination to know that Juumonji would have fallen victim to the other demon who was apparently part of the student body. He can only thank whatever conclusion Juumonji had gotten to when he left. Being dead and somehow alive was bad enough. Being dead and alive and dragging a friend into the same horrid disposition would have been hell on earth. He didn't think he'd be able to take it if Juumonji suffered the same fate as he did.

Juumonji had transformed from a regular to bully to a regular interrogator in the span of six months. He didn't hate Juumonji. Juumonji had his own set of horrid problems, from his horrid relationship with his parent to his decision on what he wanted to be in the future. Problems upon problems. If taking it out on Sena helped him, then Sena couldn't hate Juumonji for it. He'd be fine with it.

But the _demon_. Sena felt so stupid. If a demon was there on the day they put out the results of the entrance exams, then obviously he was either part of the faculty or the student body. He felt stupid for not even considering that.

But then why did Kurita say the school didn't have any curses or demons? Kurita was a second year, if the demon was a second year or third year or even a teacher, then he would have known. But maybe the demon was a first year and Kurita didn't know him before that. _Or maybe-_

 _Wait_ , what was he thinking? Kurita probably didn't even _know_ demons existed! Sena hadn't know any better six months ago either, just because he knew now didn't mean somebody else knew.

What did a demon even _do_ in high school? Get a degree? Hunt unsuspecting teens for souls? Just nothing to do overall?

For all Sena knew, it could have been anything. He couldn't find a trace of the company that brought him back from the dead, but the letter was still tucked away in his room, hidden from any sort of eyes because after a month of staring at it Sena felt sick just by thinking about it. It said "if anybody said your name backwards thrice". Sena read it as _"who knows, maybe tomorrow!"._

Either way, Sena was barely past the entrance ceremony and he's made one friend, maybe saved Juumonji from death and now has to dodge a demon on the school grounds for the next three years.

Which was now near impossible because he just had an episode in front of the demon. He's been having them more often than not. Sometimes they're not that bad. He read about how breathing and exercise helped with it. Running in the park helped. Sometimes they were bad enough that Sena couldn't tell whether he was in his bed at home or lying in the middle of the dark street with lights _flashing everywhere, red eyes watching him from-_

 _No_. Not again. He didn't need another episode.

He couldn't help it. He only saw a small glimpse of Belial on that day, but the demon in Deimon looked too similar. The sharp teeth, the ears, and the green piercing eyes. Those eyes weren't red but Sena was willing to bet whatever was left of his soul that if they were, he would have accidentally ran all the way to Osaka out of fear.

Which he nearly did. Looking back at the episode, Sena couldn't remember what exactly he saw but it was there, weird sounds of metal brushing against metal, a sizzle in his ears, was that a light they _used in-_

Sena was never sure. He was never sure what he saw when he had those hallucinations. Moments of the crash, of seeing that man and then something that was before he woke up kept swimming in his head. The first two were... obvious but the third made no sense. Did he accidentally wake up during whatever happened before he woke up in the park? He didn't want to think about it. Not when the memories were close to meeting Takeru. _Not when-_

Not when the demon was the one to shake him out of one. He felt ashamed for being a hassle to the demon. He knew that leaving himself open to be in between a literal demon and Juumonji would cause something like that but damn it, he wasn't going to let Juumonji go through what he had.

And the demon didn't follow Juumonji. _No,_ it was looking for _Sena_.

Which meant that he was looking for him that day. And that he really was targeted by a demon.

Was this a thing? Maybe Belial sent a demon once every six months to check on his clients? Maybe. Sena certainly didn't know. That could be the case. Or not.

Sena never realized just how little he knew about demons until now.

Did he even work for Belial? There were hundreds of demons in the encyclopedia of the occult club, but what if those were the only ones recorded. Thinking about it made Sena break out in a cold sweat.

Sena sighed. No peace for him this school year it seemed. Whatever, he could survive this. Or at least pretend to survive this. Then again if he's already dead then how-

Sena did not notice he was at the clubhouse before the door nearly hit him in the face.

' _That was close._ ' He didn't want a repeat of last time. His forehead still hurt from back then.

"Kurita-san?" Sena hastily opened the door into the clubhouse. He never realized just how messy the small space was. It was shocking, really. Spare uniforms, extra gear and other miscellaneous things concerning american football were lying haphazardly everywhere.

Kurita himself was sitting behind a foldable table.

"Sena! You're here!" Kurita almost jumped out of the chair he was sitting in.

It made Sena wonder, _how come?_

"Of course! I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, there was a friend of mine, well he's not really a friend- he wanted to talk but it went way longer than I thought it would and-" Sena was rambling now. "What I want to say is, I'm sorry for being late!"

"It's okay, you're here in the very least." Kurita replied, far happier than he used to be. "Besides, Hiruma seemed pretty adamant about you joining as well. He even went out to get you when you were late."

Sena mentally kicked himself in the face. He's not a hateful person but by god, Juumonji seemed to have a built in _"Time to ruin Sena's day"_ radar.

"Oh." Sena couldn't hide his disappointment. Kurita seemed to notice that but not mention anything. He... he really was looking forward to meeting Hiruma. Or at least see his face. Speaking of faces.

"By the way, what does Hiruma look like? You two must have known each other for a while."

"We have! We've known each other since middle school, we even created the Maou middle American football club together!" Kurita was shining like the sun now. Sena couldn't help but smile as well. Kurita's joy seemed to be infectious. Maybe this Hiruma guy was nice. Maybe Mamori was right, Deimon might be better.

For once, Sena feels hope. It's a nice feeling.

"Even though Hiruma is very harsh and eccentric, he's scary intelligent and motivated. I've seen him take apart hundreds of broken phones and fix all of them with my own eyes." Kurita continued.

" _Whoa_."

"Yes, whoa indeed." Kurita nodded. "But less about Hiruma and more about why you're here."

Sena nearly blushed in embarrassment. He's here to join the American football team, crush or no crush, damn it.

"Right. The manager position."

"And runningback position." Kurita added. Sena got curious.

"Kurita-san, if I can ask, what positions are there in American football. It's a team sport but I don't know much about it." Sena took a seat and stuared at the second year with curious eyes.

Kurita himself looked like today was the best day he has had in a while. Sena made note of that.

Maybe today wasn't so bad.

He stood corrected when the door slammed open with a blond demon on the other side.

* * *

Had Sena known what would have happened in nine months time, how he somehow ended up meeting his maker, slapping him across the face and now sitting in a shower with 10 bags of frozen vegetables, with stitches on his face and a sirloin stake taped to his forehead as twelve or so demons listen to him rant about how horrid his love life was, how he regretted everything he ever did in his life and how he didn't know if he wanted to turn back time and live peacefully because he'd rather not have it any other way. How the demons sitting in the bathroom with him look at him with looks of understanding, pity and mixed feelings because apparently, look upon him - he's pathetic, rotting from the inside out, and mourning the death of the person he feared for almost one and a half years, as though that person was so close to him. They came to kill him for revenge, but he himself is suffering enough as it is. Killing him would be counter productive. So now everyone is watching him wallow in hate and sorrow as he holds a tub of mint ice cream like a child.

Had Sena known what would have happened, he would have never applied for Deimon. Which was probably a lie.

"So that's how you met your first lover? Harsh."

"First off, he's not my lover. None of them are. I'm pretty sure they don't love me. Like me, yes. Love, not so much. Second, actually, Yamato was first."

"The half demon gets first place because by demon law, you two are almost married."

"Please don't make this anymore complicated than it already is."

"Fuck you, Sena of the house Kobayakawa. Now keep going, what happened after that?"


	4. Change

It's been two days since the beginning of the school year, students are already going to school yet Sena is still reeling from what happened after the entrance ceremony.

Frankly because the Hiruma he was eager to meet was the same demon that scared him out of his wits. Because he just signed up for two years of being near him for several hours. Because-

Hiruma gave off warning signs that Sena kept trying to ignore. Because Sena could not figure out how to approach the problem.

On one hand, Hiruma didn't come off as human. He held fire arms with relative ease, was insanely smart, had more than half the town _(if not half of Tokyo)_ blackmailed and refused to be anything less than the tower of authority in the room. Sena wondered if it was the contract or something, but he's developed a radar based on goosebumps and the feeling of something menacing entering the room or the building in general.

On the other hand, Hiruma treated him better than anyone he's ever met, minus Mamori.

Then again the term " _better_ " could be used loosely. But it's there. He looks at Sena like he's there, in the present and not some apparition that's just meant to do something. He looks at him with a sharpness that Sena has only seen a few people in his class do, and none of them were directed at him.

He looks at Sena like he's human, an actual person with skills and potential, not some lackey that could be treated as less.

Sena finds it hard to focus when he does.

Everything about Hiruma seems _inhuman_. His looks, his personality, his behavior, his methods, his intelligence and his enthusiasm about American football.

But Sena's never felt so _human_ around anyone else.

It's a nice feeling. It reminds him of how Takeru looked at him and saw something _brave, honest and-_

He didn't want to finish that thought, his heart might explode.

So now, Sena is standing at the field, watching practise begin in a football jersey with the number 21, because he had blacked out of fear two days ago and had, as Hiruma told him, "fallen over like a Victorian novel heroine on the table and nearly bashed his head in, effectively destroying his last braincell."

Sena remembered that differently.

But apparently, he was now applying for both the manager and the runningback position.

Sena had asked Kurita if he ever agreed. Kurita said to ask Hiruma and he'll understand. Sena did _not_ ask Hiruma, if he did, his already fluctuating view of him would be gone with the wind.

So now Sena was standing in the field and watching equipment being dragged out.

He'd desperately tried to smother the small sparks of anxiety he felt. He couldn't feel calm around Hiruma. Frankly, Sena would argue that being near him and talking to him was undoubtedly the most courageous thing he has done in five years.

The fact that Hiruma kept sparing glances at him was not helping. His legs were bouncing on their soles, the burn in his legs was slowly spreading and he wanted to do something, anything to make it feel less like his extremities were shoved in a toaster.

Was he waiting for him to do something? To train with them? No with a capital N.

If it's one thing Sena knew about his lack of bones, it's that there were more cons than pros. Sure enough, he was lighter, very much flexible and faster. Sena had always been fast but sometimes he felt like the ground beneath him disappeared and he was flying, his body almost _morphing with the wind._ His loins hurt like never before after moments like those. Probably because of the realization that he'd ran faster than cars and jumped over fences at some point.

But even with the raw, burning feeling of absolute freedom the run gave him, none of them made up for what they took. First off, everything hurt. Punches started hurting more and sometimes his own small weight hurt the soles of his feet in the morning. The force of some bumps reverberated in his body like sound bouncing off of walls. It left a noise in his head, like a whistle going higher and higher.

It's like someone took his already high agility and raised it to one hundred and twenty, while dropping his constitution to almost zero.

Mamori once even saw him do a backwards bridge to avoid being hit with a stray ball heading towards him.

It just showed how inadequate he was for sport if his survival instinct made him avoid the ball.

"Earth to shrimpcake!"

Sena jumped out of his thoughts, noticing that Hiruma was standing in front of him and looking into his eyes.

 _'Be still, my nervous heart._ ' Sena thought weakly as he noticed that Hiruma's eyes were green. Not an olive shade or deep emerald, no, they were a light shade of green, with a hint of blue or maybe purple. If Sena had to compare, it resembled the seafoam of the ocean in an early cold morning, as the sun had shown just on the horizon, when his family had gone out to visit the beach during a hot summer weekend.

Sena could get lost in those eyes for days.

"Are you done cooking in the sun? You look like you're five seconds away from being well done."

Sena couldn't really respond to that.

"Anyway, get in position, time to run the forty yards." Hiruma gestured to the cones lined up on the field.

"Wait!" Sena exclaimed. "Do I really have to try out for the runningback position? I- I don't think I'm suitable-"

Sena's words were cut short as Hiruma pointed his gun at Sena, right between the eyes.

"Them what's your excuse?"

"I- I'm not good at sports."

"Nobody is good at sports, but there's tons of people who are good at faking it. Now move it. Whether or not you're suitable for the position will be shown on the field. I have a hunch that you're just perfect for this position."

"And if I don't qualify?" Sena mustered up a weak defense.

"Then you'll train until you're qualified. No more questions? Good, now mush!"

It almost seemed like Hiruma was intent on keeping an eye on Sena, much to his absolute horror.

And with that Sena was standing on the white line with Hiruma by his side and with Kurita holding a stopwatch forty yards from him.

Sena wanted to genuinely die for what seemed to be the third time that week.

Eh, not exactly record breaking but still.

"On my mark, you run to the fatass like you're going die if you don't."

"But what if I'm already dead?" Sena asked, trying not to jump out of his own skin.

"You've got a working brain, don't you?"

"Debatable but yes."

"Then you're alive. Now ready!"

Sena hastily got into a running position. There was clearly no arguing with Hiruma and Sena instinctively knew, that if he tried to press any further, there would be hell to pay.

"Set!" There was a sudden sound of a gun being cocked. And Sena's bones had turned ablaze.

 _"YA-HA!"_

Suddenly there's a loud bang and Sena all but flew off like a torpedo. It feels like barely a moment when Sena realizes he had already gone past Kurita and tried slows down. Key word _tried._

The sudden skidding halt made him slip and fall into the soft grass. The collision was painful, knocked the air out of him and Sena is once again reminded why he hates sport of any kind. He promptly realized that the grass was rather soft. Maybe he could wait out-

"4.15 seconds! Sena, that's amazing!"

Or maybe not. The universe demands that after six months of borderline isolation, _now_ is the time to make up for lost time.

Kurita was now picking him up with little to no difficulty. Sena meekly looked at him, then at the stopwatch.

00.04.15. It looked more like a date in the past than his time. Sena knew he was fast, even before the whole mess he had gotten into. Somebody had tried to rope him into the track club but he was so focused on either completing errands or just avoiding people in general that they must have forgotten about it. The missing bones only made him faster. A near sixth of his weight was gone and that made it so much easier for his muscles to go faster. Or rather it was easier to run nowadays. Less weight for the muscles to propell but still having the foundation. It made him fast. Faster than most humans.

"Jackass landing you did there but we'll beat some balance into you! A whole half a millisecond faster than that damned Shin! You hear that, shrimpcake?"

"I hear but I do not understand." Sena managed to force out.

"It means you qualify with flying colours. Welcome to hell, little midget!" A hand went through his hair, ruffling and messing it up. It was like a shock, a pleasant shock. He's... _never_ really been ruffled like that. Head ruffles and slung over arms were friendly gestures that Sena... hadn't really experienced a lot. Not since Riku left. But this- _this was nice._ This was like diving into the ocean during a blistering hot day. Refreshing yet shocking. Relieving yet _energizing_.

Maybe the American football club wasn't that bad.

* * *

Sena took back every good thing he ever said about the American football club. This was hell on earth and Hiruma was running the show almost by second nature.

After being quite literally dragged out to practice every day, Sena has learned of horrors he never knew existed.

First off, dogs that small should not be so terrifying. How Hiruma managed to find a hell hound like that was beyond him, the dog being named Cerberus did nothing to help.

Second of all, months of isolation makes you miss out on gossip and rumors that could make you avoid people. Most had a reputation. Schools had reputation. Not Hiruma Yoichi. Hiruma _was_ the school reputation as it seemed.

Threatening via firearms, blackmailing, even accounts of borderline torture. If Sena somehow had had doubts about Hiruma being a demon, his belief was now solidified.

But some things just didn't add up. Sena had looked up some demons, thanks to the Maou middle occult club. In the books, most barely looked human, showed immense strength and radiated ferocity. Not Hiruma.

Hiruma was inhuman, very much so, but Sena was getting the impression that he was a weird demon. Just in the same way there were weird humans who were able to do things on inhuman levels, there seemed to be weird demons who did things on human levels.

While Hiruma's intelligence was impeccable, terrifying even, Sena realized he was lacking in the physical department. Which frankly confused him.

American football was a sport which demanded physical prowess and specialization.

Hiruma was almost painfully average. He thanked Kurita for being a saint and telling him everyone's stats, even if he was blind to the bloodshed that was training time. Hiruma's forty yards were done in 5 seconds and a spare millisecond. His throw had a sixty percent accuracy rate. Hiruma himself looked like a twig with muscles. Skinny but lean, not that Sena was _looking, no, he was not._

The strangest thing was that Hiruma, a demon, was living among humans. He was a student, he was the captain of a club, he had a dog, he had a house, he bought groceries and he had a schedule. For Sena, who had thought of demons as larger than life, this would never not be shocking.

Unless... Hiruma himself was an outcast among demons. If demons had functions like humans in terms of countries, was Hiruma an outcast because he was wasn't like anyone else in hell? Did they even live in hell or were they living in hiding?

But none the less, it would have made sense if Hiruma was an outcast among demons. He couldn't fit the mold with his own kind but he seemed to be enjoying time with humans, if he was willing to stick to rules of their society.

It made Sena somehow worry for him. If Hiruma was an outcast, was it because he was a runt? Sena had only seen Hiruma chew bubblegum and maybe drink cola, when he and Kurita were out scouting for extra players. It made him worry for Hiruma. He never saw him eat and sometimes wondered if he lived in the clubhouse. Was he not eating enough? Maybe he didn't know how to cook?

Which lead to Sena doing the impossible. Asking his mother to teach him how to make bento.

To which he was met with a blank but surprised look. And maybe he was also surprised at himself, because this meant he was actually pursuing his crush. Somehow. Was Takeru still his crush?

"I- I think that now that I'm in highschool, I should at least start trying to be an adult and there might be times when you need to be out of town for the morning or-" Sena was rambling as he was trying to stare at the floor in earnest. He felt a little red from embarrassment, considering that he was going to make lunch for himself and his apparently second crush. It wasn't that he was afraid of his parents, no, but he felt like he was being selfish. Or that he was asking too much, he had tried to keep to himself so much it worried his parents. Taking in a deep breath, he began again. "I, I don't want to keep worrying you or Mamori. I can't be a kid forever, plus I need to-" say it, say it, " I need to start taking control of my life-"

Before he could finish, his mother grabbed him in an almost bone crushing hug.

"Mom? Is something wrong?" Sena asked as he hugged back. Hugs from his mother was something he was used to, despite her hard headed personality but this one felt different.

"No. Everything is fine. I'm just- happy, that's all." His mother pulled away. "Besides, it's time you finally learned your way around the kitchen."

So now Sena was standing outside the clubhouse, one bento awkwardly in hand and his own stuffed in his bag. He felt like he was being steamed alive.

Oh _god, what was he doing?! What if this was a big mistake and he'd just come across as weird or something? How was he supposed to give this to him?! 'Hey, I've never seen you eat in front of me so I made you a bento because I'm both worried about you and I want to show you affection because we're somewhat alike?'_

Sena considered bailing. But then he'd be wasting food.

 _Wait,_ how did demons show affection? If Hiruma's way of showing praise was to kick somebody, how does one show affection? But he did curse a lot. And sometimes smacked him over the head and shot him. For some reasons, Hiruma used rubber bullets on him and normal ones for...everyone else. But that didn't make it any less terrifying.

Wait, maybe that's it! Sena should speak in a way that Hiruma would be most comfortable with. In curses. That might do something.

So he gathered all the courage in his veins, ignored the burning joints and entered the clubhouse.

Hiruma was sitting at the table, typing away while Kurita was looking over uniforms.

Hiruma had looked away from the laptop and his eyes drifted to the bento in his hands.

"Eating more? Good, we can't have an uncooked noodle as a runningback."

Sena took a deep breath and shoved the bento right into Hiruma's face.

"Says the bamboo twig quarterback. Do you know how thin you are? Eat, you bastard." Sena exclaimed and ran out of the clubhouse.

* * *

That was arguably the worst thing he had done to date, because afterwards Hiruma started using real bullets. Sena could dodge them, yes, but he didn't know why he suddenly changed them. Truth be told, it's like he was slowly getting more dangerous with him. Making Cerberus chase him across an obstacle course, kick him when he managed to get Ishimaru on the team for the first match of the season and sometimes squishing his face just painfully enough to get his point across.

For some reason, Hiruma was also keen on small acts of physical contact. It was something that was hard to get used to.

He gave back the empty bento at after school practice, telling him that the meat could have been spicier and to add more fibers if he was eating the same.

So technically a win?

Either way, Sena was now making Hiruma lunch on a daily basis for some reason. It felt...nice. To care for someone. He was still terrified of Hiruma, there were a lot of things that terrified him, but this was somehow their routine now. A terrifying, nerve racking routine which kept testing Sena's will to live.

How Mamori hadn't noticed his stress was due to his impeccable skills of hiding the truth.

"You know, Sena, Hiruma is surprisingly nice to you." Kurita had said one day when they were putting equipment away. Hiruma had made him help Kurita because he "needed to grow some god damn arm strength before the first match".

"Nice?" Sena found it hard to believe. It seemed more like Hiruma was trying to beat a backbone into him or some form answer out of him. He kept looking at him like he wanted to ask something. Or maybe torture an answer out of him. Whatever demons do to get information.

"Yeah! It's hard to tell but he can be kind in his own way. You're the first new member we've had in almost a year!" Kurita exclaimed.

Now that Sena had thought about it, recently people have started to avoid him.

Maybe demons showed kindness in their own way, but Sena didn't know how. There were hundreds of things that Sena had thought but none that he knew about demons.

So all he could do now was accept it as it was. Hiruma was making him come out of a shell that he had put himself in. Sure, he was dragging him against his will in a way but...

Sena hadn't had fun doing any type of sport in a long time. Except now.

"I...guess he sort of is."

* * *

Life always finds a way to make Sena's life difficult no matter what.

This time it came in the form of Mamori, a lost bottle of concealer and the Cupids' match. The first match in the entire season was going terrible for both teams. The Devilbats were all substitutes from other teams and the Cupids were just plain _bad._ It was almost painful for Sena to watch, but he had to keep the camera focused on the match for now, which meant looking at this mockery of a sport. Sena didn't feel that strong about amefuto but you didn't need an expert to understand how badly they were playing.

Then Ishimaru sprained his ankle. Out of everyone, Sena had recruited Ishimaru and for some reason felt responsible for him. He was originally part of the track team and Sena made it his responsibility to make sure Ishimaru came back with only miniscule bruises, due to amefuto being such a tackle based game.

So naturally, when the referee blew for a pause, Sena grabbed the med kit that was prepared just in case and nearly bolted to Ishimaru. Just barely keeping a human running pace because Hiruma would shoot his brains out if he compromised the secret identity of Eyeshield 21.

He had to thank Mamori for teaching him how to treat sprained and twisted ankles in the last moment.

Ishimaru himself was fine, but he couldn't continue playing.

So somebody had to step in as runningback. Sena didn't need to look at Hiruma to know who it had to be.

"Should I get that guy?" Sena asked warily. Hiruma had barked out a yes and "demanded" him to go get extra tapes just in case. The last part was a lie but still.

Uniform, gear, helmet and eyeshield on, Sena rummaged for the concealer.

And just when Sena was about to make a run to the bathroom to hide the increasingly bright tatoo, he realized he had forgotten his concealer at home.

Panic had never been so prominent in Sena's life before. He had a coat of concealer and foundation on him at the moment, yes, but there was no guarantee it wouldn't melt during the match or a tackle into the dirt would smudge it off.

This wouldn't be a problem if Mamori wasn't there. Hiruma seemed keen on keeping his identity a secret, if the green eyeshield and demand to not change in front of the temporary teammates was anything to go by. And frankly, Sena would agree.

Not only because he didn't have the confidence of showing his face in front of dozens of people who were watching, but also because Mamori was one of the people watching.

When Mamori heard that he had joined the american football club, she immediately assumed he went for the manager or secretary position. While he would have loved being able to be the manager, Sena knew that if he struggled in math and analysis then that spot was out the window. So he was on secretary duty. "Technically". But Mamori didn't have to know that. Not yet at least.

But the problem wasn't in the fact that Mamori would be able to see him, no, the problem was that she would be able to see his tattoo. Mamori was part of the student council, for god's sake, if she saw that one of the students had a tattoo she'd go berserk or, worse, _stop the match._

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit._

If Sena's bones felt like they were being when Ishimaru got injured, then now they felt like a bonfire.

Sena couldn't stay cooped up here but he couldn't risk anyone seeing the tattoo.

But the match...

"Oh, who am I kidding? I've pretty much got nothing else to lose." Sena sighed as he left the changing room. Outside, Cerberus was waiting. "Maybe you could kill me and I could avoid public humiliation, or better yet, the entire match?"

Cerberus growled at him.

"Okay, okay- I'm going, see? I'm going towards the field, no need to-" and then Cerberus lunged at him.

Sena ran like a freight train.

* * *

Sena was hurriedly putting on clothes as he was mumbling curses under his breath.

The match went well, great even! He had fun, his team won, none of his concealer got smudged and he managed to play the nigh impossible role of an American football superstar without anyone questioning it. Mamori hadn't questioned the presence of the sudden new teammate. Instead she questioned where Sena was.

Which lead to Eyeshield 21 saying he was going to fetch him, while Sena was hurriedly putting on his uniform and trying to look more or less presentable.

He got prepared in the last minute and Mamori was less than pleased.

His ruffled appearance and out of breath state no doubt reminded her of that time six months ago and Sena couldn't help but feel guilty.

So he spoke his mind.

"I- I like it here, Mamori. I really do. Maybe I joined because you told me to or because I got interested but I like it. I'm beginning to like American football and-" Sena took a deep breath, putting all the confidence he had into one sentence. "And I'm going to stay. I don't want to burden you forever. I don't want you to worry over me. You're in your second year and soon it'll be your third. When that time comes, you have to focus on your future. Mamori, you- you're great. Amazing. And you deserve better than this. Better than-"

Better than sticking around for a corpse which would soon be gone.

Mamori looked between him and Hiruma, who was no doubt burning holes into the side of Sena head.

"...They're not bullying you, right? Because if what happened six months ago happens again-"

Now Hiruma was really interested.

"That was six months ago!" Sena tried to object. It was a lie, what happened still felt like it happened yesterday and Sena knew that no matter how many strides he took in recovery, it'll be a part of him in the worst way. Quite literally.

"And- Besides! I- I want to at least try and do something better. With myself at least."

Mamori's face was tied between worry and pride but then she saw Hiruma and-

Well that's an explanation on its own.

"Alright. I can't force you to leave something you're invested in... But if anything happens-" Mamori started.

"Nothing will happen!" Sena tried to assure her. "When has anyone from the amefuto club ever been harassed?"

The question was less of a question and more of a weak defense. The reason why nobody from the club was harassed was because Hiruma was in the club. And the only other person was Kurita. He couldn't imagine what sort of monster would harass or bully him. Or what sort of fearless fool decided to bet his life with the devil.

Mamori all but sighed.

"Alright. I...guess I can't smother you forever either. But I'm still your sister, alright?"

Sena smiled for what seemed to be the first time in a long time.

"Yeah. Can't change that."

Sena wanted to be happy. He really did. But he wasn't sure if he could actually get it.

But the past few days have been okay.

And maybe- maybe one day Mamori would be able to live carefree, without worrying about a dead brother.

A part of Sena whispered that he wasn't doing this for himself, but to finally let Mamori be free.

He was an anchor, a weight on her shoulders, he just knew it. But he didn't want to say it.

No, because by next year, Mamori would hopefully forget about him and Sena could one day finally go back to what he should have been six months ago.

 _Dead_.

"But- then what's keeping you here?"

Ah, the eternal question that brought Sena out of his depressing musings.

"Nothing!" Hiruma suddenly appeared behind Sena patting him on the back. Sena leaned a small amount into the hand. "Sena's place is here, no one is making him stay. There's no doubt about his place as the manager and secretary, but with the added workload of a manager, it might be a bit too much. If only we had someone who could take the role of manager."

Sena wondered why Hiruma was suddenly so... sentimental-

Wait. No, he wouldn't.

* * *

Sena realized he had spoken far too soon.

Far, far too soon.

Because nothing could have been as shocking as hearing the news of Mamori being their new manager. As it turned out, being part of the student committee didn't give anyone a lot of extra credit or brownie points unless it was from a well known school.

Deimon was not a well known school.

Sena cursed himself.

And maybe Belial, too.

Either way, Sena was still wondering who their next opponents were. When Sena had stared at the ranking sheet for too long, Hiruma had conjured up a lighter and promptly lit the paper on fire. Sena was having trouble finding additional information.

Kurita had been overjoyed due to the recent developments and Sena couldn't really bring himself to let the shock win over the second year's infectious mood. Even if it was a bit... unusual.

No person could be that happy just from a victory, right?

"Now that the first match is over, who are we fighting next?" Sena mused, looking over the slightly charred piece of paper.

"Let's ask Hiruma." Kurita suggested.

"The Oujo White Knights." Hiruma responded like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sena barely willed himself not to scream.

He wouldn't dare say that his amefuto knowledge was great but being around Kurita and Hiruma certainly expanded it.

And as far as he knew, the Oujo White Knights were a near legendary team.

And they were their second opponents.

Sena sighed into his hands. Maybe he was over thinking it.

* * *

Mamori watched as Hiruma was looking over the window. He was watching teh other players leave, after everything that had happened. The match, her becoming the secretary.

But she wondered why Hiruma of all people wanted her to stay behind and talk about "manager duties".

She knew it was a lie but the seriousness of his so called proposal to talk about it was something worth questioning.

"Hiruma, we both know manager duties isn't why you called me here." Mamori started as Hiruma sat down in front of her. The table was small but enough for both of them to keep their privacy. All that was on the table was his laptop.

"It's about Sena." Hiruma said, opening his laptop, tapping away. "What exactly happened six months ago?"

Mamori's mood immediately soured. Of course, leave it to Hiruma to want to know every single detail.

But the question itself meant that _Hiruma-_

 _Hiruma didn't know._

And that's what made Mamori so high strung.

Six months ago, she had obviously suspected Hiruma as the culprit but she couldn't understand why. They, the football team, were busy with the fall tournament that month, and even if they lost, they still were putting their all into it.

Plus, she had almost no connections with the football club at the time.

He couldn't have done it because he wanted to have leverage over Mamori, because there would have been no leverage to gain.

But she still had her resentment towards him.

Today proved to be... different.

Sena seemed comfortable with Hiruma. Sure, he was terrified, who wasn't, but he still gave the same amount of willingness to actually talk to someone. It was-

It was good change of pace.

And it showed that Hiruma couldn't have been the culprit.

Yet a small part of Mamori hoped he knew. Not from her or Sena, but from whatever sources he had. Hiruma had a knack for having eyes everywhere. But if he didn't know, then Mamori's own private investigation would be going as dry as ever.

"You mean you don't know?" Mamori asked. Hiruma merely raised his eyebrow.

"Know what?" There he went again with his mind tricks. But Mamori knew the issue was too serious to be joked around.

"I...honestly don't know myself." Mamori admitted. "Nobody really knows. All I know is that something happened. Something bad enough to hurt him to the core. He told his parents one version but then he told me a completely different thing. It doesn't add up and he's been scared of the street ever since. But why do you need to know so bad?"

The rhythmic tapping stopped.

"Because Sena was terrified when he saw me."

Mamori almost slapped herself.

"So? Everyone is. We had an entire anti-Hiruma club in first year."

"I'm saying he was terrified not because of my reputation. He was terrified of my face." Hiruma gestured to his face.

Wait.

"When was this? What day did that happen?"

"On the day when the entrance exam results were given."

Of course. Of course, that was that day, when Sena had somehow gone MIA for a while before he called to tell her. He had accidentally took a football to the face, fell unconscious and had to be taken to the nurse's office.

"That was you!?"

"I have no idea what you mean." Hiruma said.

"Yoh know what, forget it. Sena didn't know about you. I didn't tell Sena about you until a few days ago. When he said he joined a club." Mamori was connecting mental dots with an alarming speed.

"That means whatever happened that day, or whatever, had to have involved someone. Someone who had some cosmetic feature that I had."

"Which means Sena lied about not seeing who his attacker was." Mamori concluded, dread pooling in her stomach.

"Attacker?" Hiruma asked, voice dripping with poison and curiosity.

"Sena told his parents he was mugged by someone who tried hitting him with a car several times. But Sena told me that he had accidentally bumped into a gang of thugs from a different school who then tried to harass him."

"So we're either looking at vehicular manslaughter or domestic disturbance." Hiruma mumbled over his breath, just loud enough for Mamori to hear. The words "domestic" and "manslaughter" should never belong in a sentence. Especially if it's Hiruma speaking the sentence.

"Please don't say it like that." Mamori groaned. "But that means we have a lead."

"We?"

"You asked me to stay so you could find out about what happened six months ago, didn't you? So do I. I don't like your methods or your ways, but if finding out what happened to Sena would bring me closer to helping him, then let's call it a truce. For now." Mamori stretched out her hand towards Hiruma.

"So you want to join up to find out what happened to shrimpcake? You're making a deal with the devil." Hiruma closed his laptop, eyeing her hand.

"But so do you. I'm not going to ask why. It's probably your desire to know everything in this city." Mamori replied. She gestured to her hand once more.

Hiruma looked at her for a moment before taking her hand and shaking it.

A.N.: I desperately wanted to shove in the Oujo match in this chapter so I could introduce Monta sooner but yhat feels like a separate chapter on its own.


	5. Catch me if you can

(AN: okay so this chapter absolutely busted my nuts. I was originally going to have this chapter go up until the Chameleon match and a little after but then it kicked my ass and I thought of getting it till Montas intro but then that kicked my ass ass gain so have this... 9 thousand word disaster.)

To Shin, american football is a battlefield. A war zone, a place of strength, speed and strategy. Every game is a war, every tournament feels like a century of chaos and order, where soldiers and knights fight for eternity.

But Shin is not satisfied with being just a soldier. Shin isn't satisfied with being within the human standard.

Because to Shin, amefuto is the only thing that makes him feel alive. It's a place where he can be free with his strength, the internal armor protecting his enemies from anything which would cause a penalty. It's a time where he can run with his full speed, not like in training where he's running after a target. It's a feeling where his blunt personality flourishes.

Which is why Shin refused to falter. He refused to fall behind, he refused to let himself be wiped out. It's a battlefield but it's a place where Shin feels at home.

He won't lose stamina, his body won't slow down and his instincts won't dull.

 _But for what?_

The more Shin fought this war, like the knight he is, the more some matches started feeling... _dull_. Lower rate teams like Scorpions and Guts made matches seem almost tedious, with no real fight in the game. Like he had to hold back against them.

But fights between teams like the Nagas or the Gunmen were exhilarating. Too exhilarating. Sometimes frustrating. Especially if they felt like they were looked down on. Especially if it was due to the same strategy used over and over again.

Shin hated matches like those. It made him feel _weak_ , helpless, unable to do anything. Unable to help his team. Unable to evolve.

Which is why he wanted to see the first Deimon match of the year.

Last year, the quarterback had promised him that he'll bring a force to be reckoned with the next time they meet.

Shin was hoping he'd kept that promise. He really did. He's yet to meet someone who could match his speed. Or if there was someone who could break out of his tackles.

He wanted to feel a challenge. He wanted to feel challenged. He wanted to go up against someone who could evolve. Who could change.

Someone who could keep up with him.

He hoped the next match wouldn't be like last time.

* * *

Sena was trying to practice catching the ball when he thought about it.

The past few days were calm. Well, as calm they can be when Hiruma is making him run laps every morning and then after school. He kept saying how his "stamina was shit" and "if we want to win the Oujo match, we'll be relying on you so don't fuck it up". He started practicing with him too. After seeing taht Sena didn't even know how to catch, he told him how to. He felt like he needed to know, like if he didn't the whole game would fall apart.

Being relied on felt terrifying. Sena would admit that he was doing wonders in pretending to be some amefuto football star, but the Oujo match made him dread the idea of failure. What if they lose? What would become of the club? What would become of him? What would happen to _Hiruma_?

He didn't want to think about it. So the best way to ignore the constant fear of both getting killed in an unorthodox way and the fear of going back to the pit of despair for the rest of his life was to work. _Hard._

Hiruma was practicing his throws and Sena was practicing receiving said throws.

Sena never understood why Hiruma wanted to witness his progress. Maybe to analyze how fast he would grow? That seemed like it. Hiruma was intelligent in a terrifying way. It would make sense for him to constantly monitor how the entire team performed.

But the way he watched him made Sena think that he was looking for something.

For a minute, Sena's panic driven mind had thought that he was looking for the tatoo on his neck. But the fact that Hiruma hadn't actually done anything about it made him discard the thought.

If Hiruma was looking for a physical feature, he would have manhandled Sena into revealing it. He manhandled Sena into amefuto by dragging him to the club, he'll do it again if he saw something on him.

So maybe he was gauging his behavior. But for what? Sena couldn't figure it out.

But as Sena's fingers brushed against the flying ball, something dawned on him.

Maybe Hiruma was trying to find out why Sena wasn't running as fast as he used to?

True, his run before the Cupids match was fast, but Sena had a thought. A thought in the back of his head that said he could be faster if he wanted to. Much faster. Far faster than any human alive, fast enough to set _fire to his soles and-_

Sena watched the world tilt on its axis as he slipped right past the bouncing ball.

 _'Crap, I missed again.'_

"AGAIN!" Sena could hear Hiruma yelling. "AND NO FANCY FLIPS THIS TIME!"

"Right!"

Sena ran back with the ball in hand. Maybe that's why he always missed the ball in the first place - he had to go faster.

The problem is Sena doesn't know how. Sena knows he can be faster, he just doesn't know _how_ to be faster. He's been running at a good speed for a while but it didn't feel the same. It didn't feel the same way that he flew through the crowd, where his body felt like wax melting in the wind, leaving nothing but him, nothing but dust. Nothing but _energy. Nothing but **bones.**_

Every time he feels it, it's a fluke. A firework that shines for half a moment in his head and fades as the sparks in the sky lose heat.

But maybe that was it. Maybe he had to think of himself as a firework. Or not.

He's always run for something. A goal in mind and then losing all coherent thought.

Maybe that was it? Losing thought in the midst of battle. It sounded like a start.

"Hiruma, can I try something?" Sena asked as he handed the ball back.

"Like what?" Grumbled the demon. And now Sena feels all the sudden wanderlust fade out of him.

"It's- I keep thinking that I feel like I can go faster but at the same time I can't because-"

"You want to go faster? Then go faster." Hiruma supplied as he prepared to throw the ball.

Sena was not even ready, before it soared through the air.

And Sena ran after it. He forced everything back. The small yell of complaints, the yell from the field and whatever thought he had. All he needed at to think about was the ball. Nothing else. Just the ball.

Just _catch it._ Just make sure you _get there first._ Just don't let anyone else get there. Just _fear the option._

 _Fear it._

 _Fear_. And the world almost stopped revolving.

Sena's hands felt the soft leather of the ball in front of him stop the air current. It was a few feet above from him.

Fear _hesitation._

Fear _power._

Fear _your humanity._

 _The sudden vertigo of the world crashed into him as his hands shot from his sides, his claws crossing over as he-_

 _Wait, claws?!_

Sena's feet jumbled beneath him as he grabbed the ball. He quickly steadied himself as he skidded to a halt.

A sudden form of panic washed over him. _Claws_? What the hell!?

Sena looked over his hands. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just his hand, his fingers and the nails at the end of them. His hands were perfectly normal and human.

So why did he think of them as claws of all things?

No maybe it was a spur of the moment thing. Had to be.

Sena shook his head, trying to drown out the soft ringing in his ears and the fire at his fingertips.

Back to practice. And if Hiruma was staring at him, like he was peeling away his skin with his eyes, then Sena just forced himself to ignore it.

* * *

Sena had been worried about the Oujo match but apparently he was worried for all the wrong reasons.

One of which was how Hiruma's idea of an entrance was making the substitute players get tied to a cart and pull them. All the way to the stadium. With _Cerberus_ chasing them.

Sena's fears of getting obliterated by the enemy was replaced with disbelief on how something like this could even be allowed.

Was it allowed? Was there a human rights law that claimed that humans couldn't be used as horses for caravans? Sena didn't have any time to think about it as he sat in the back of the cart. He had full view of Cerberus chasing after them, teeth lashing out and saliva running.

Sena will never believe that the dog was a byproduct of two dogs and not some demonic beast.

He could only sympathize with the recruits who were pulling the cart with all their strength.

It absolutely did not help that the local news station were going to be at the stadium.

Did Oujo always bring this much attention?

"Why is the district tournament like this?" Sena muttered as his eyes scanned the crowd. There was a ridiculous amount of people, even for an amefuto match.

"It's because of Sakuraba." Kurita replied behind him. Sena's eyes wandered to the crowd. He'd never get calmer around crowds, eyeshield or no eyeshield.

"Even the TV station is here..." Sena replied.

"That's why they got this stadium, huh?" Kurita exclaimed. Sena took a look at the field. It didn't seem different to him. "This is the first time on natural grass!"

First match on natural grass? It couldn't be that special. Even if Oujo was a prestigious school, they wouldn't play on a natural grass field all the time. Right? There had to be some form of budget.

"Are you nervous?" Kurita asked.

"A bit. This is overwhelming."

"Don't worry, this time, we'll definitely score more than them!" Kurita puffed up. Sena smiled sadly. Sena knew he couldn't win the whole game for them but Kurita's enthusiasm and optimism was infectious.

Sena could only nod in agreement.

"Everyone, snack time!"

Everyone gathered on the blanket. Sena knew that they were going to have rice balls but his curiosity made him wonder. What about Oujo.

Sena could only stare as he watched men in uniforms pull boxes of bento towards the team, the coach of which was yelling something about energy and vitamins.

"This must be difference between the rich and the poor..." Sena sighed.

His own discomfort could be seen from the substitute members, too. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hiruma dragging Cerberus by a collar towards the fence. He's not sure if today is real or an anxiety induced nightmare.

But he's glad Mamori is there at least. Her homemade food even brought morale up. She even made one for Cerberus.

A flicker of light caught his attention. Sena saw Sakuraba walking from what seemed to be a man with too much gold on him towards the camera crew. What was that thing on Sakuraba's head? It looked like a hat but it didn't look like one. And what was that suit guy-

A cold feeling of dread washed over him. _Was_ -

Was Sakuraba in the same predicament he was in? No, no _nonononono_ \- he felt sweat gather on his forehead, flowing down the side of his head. Sakuraba, was he being _exploited- or what if he got into a contract in a different way than Sena, but then how-_

"Sena?" Mamori's voice dropped Sena down to reality. He whipped his head around to meet her worried gaze. "What's wrong? You look pale."

And that brought Hiruma's eyes to him. _Shit_.

His head whipped back and forth from what he was witnessing and to Mamori, his voice stuck in his throat like a rock.

"Is that who I think it is?" Mamori focused on the man in the suit, clear confusion written on her face.

"Who?" Sena forced his voice to comply.

"Miracle Itou. He's the president of a media company. I heard he was working with Sakuraba, him being the cover face of a fast food restaurant chain but isn't that the job for an agent?"

' _Or maybe he's a demon trying to profit off of him?'_ Sena thought to himself.

"He _is_ his agent. The guy scouted Sakuraba himself so he's responsible for him. If it's that shithead you're worried about, don't. This is his first match, he's barely a player." Hiruma gestured to Sakuraba, who was being interviewed by the crew.

"You think so?" Sena asked. He was relieved by a huge amount. So the man was _human_ and Sakuraba was just doing idol and sponsorship work. That seemed reasonable and _totally not_ supernatural.

"Think? I know so. Look at him. Does that look like the build of a player to you?" Hiruma sneered before going to his bags. Sena knew that bag was full of ammunition but his gaze was glued on Sakuraba. He looked ashamed, almost miserable.

 _'A king without a crown, a monarch without a scepter.'_ A quiet, almost indistinguishable voice whispered to him. Sena forced it to the back of his head.

No point worrying about someone you might never meet. But Sena couldn't help it. He didn't even know why.

The tattoo on his neck grew hotter. Sena ignored it.

He was brought out of his musings when Hiruma called for everyone's attention.

"Listen up, bastards!" The muzzle of the rifle dug into the ground. "Today's game has a different feel from the previous one. We're not just going to play football, _THIS IS WAR!"_

 _War._

At the sound of that word, Sena's heart started beating hard enough that it pulsed through his body. It sent his blood rushing and his loins ablaze. He didn't even know why. The sound, the word, the very idea of war suddenly threw him in a fight or flight state.

It was stuck in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull.

"Which means Shin will probably play, right? We really should go home." One of the members whispered to himself, voice laced with fear. Sena tried stopping his hands from shaking. He didn't know why they were shaking.

"I don't want to remember what happened last year, I wish I could just forget." Another said to himself.

Sena wanted to do something, anything to get those blazing bones of his to calm down.

He asked Kurita.

"What happened last year?"

"Two of our helpers got broken bones. They were sent to the hospital and we nearly ended the game early."

 _War. **Broken bones**. End. **Broken bones.** War. Bones. End. **Bones. Bones.**_

Sena looked at his hands. For a second, all he saw was bones. No skin, no flesh, no tendons or nerves. Just _bones_ illuminated by an orange glow.

And then it was gone.

Sena took deep breaths. Calm down, _calm down, calm down._ He was just seeing things. It was probably just the crowd getting to him or the sun, the people, the reeling blast of heat to his maw, the fear of death, the tattoo on his neck that _tightened so much like a noose-_

"Relax, Eyeshield 21 will have the ball." Hiruma spun the gun to it landed on its handle. "Shin will be tackling him only."

Sena did nothing to hide the sheer horror on his face.

Sena slid under behind the bench and dropped to the ground quietly. He had to leave. He had to or he'd die. Every single nerve in his body was as cold as ice, telling him to run, hide, get away from this man who would no doubt kill him. And in return, every bone in his body was almost melting, burning with the desire to do nothing more than run into the field and fight. The tattoo on his neck did absolutely nothing to lessen the heat.

War. _Survival_. Fight. _Run._ Win. _Lose._ Conquer. _Escape_. Blood. _Bones_. Victory. _Death._

 _War. Bones. Death. War. Victory. Bones. **Fear**. Fire. Hell. **Rule**. Win. Bones. Bones. **Curse**. Bones._

It felt like two different forces were pulling him in opposite directions. Sena felt like he was going to be ripped apart, piece by piece as random words filled him mind and made him nauseous. _Why was he thinking of this, how was this even happening_. Sena was leaning on the wall of the entrance. He was going die, if not from Shin, then from this absolutely hellish fever he was experiencing. It was the middle of April but if felt like it was freezing. He was only wearing his uniform but it felt like he was burning.

"We could retaliate and get revenge for the broken bones. Wouldn't you like that?" A voice from one of the helpers resounded. He was so far away, how-

"That's true! We did make it to the second round. If we ran away like this, it would be way too humiliating." Ishimaru. That was Ishimaru talking.

 _'Humiliating. You're humiliating for running away.'_ That voice felt too familiar.

"If it's Eyeshield 21, I somehow feel like things will turn out all right." Sena's head felt clearer, he felt lighter too.

' _Things will turn out alright.'_

Sena felt stupid. Guilty. Terrible. What was he _doing_? People were counting on him and here he was running.

' _Things will turn out alright.'_ Sena felt like he was lying to himself. To everyone. Sena couldn't win a match like this. He could barely think.

Sena thought back to the day he met Takeru.

 _"But he always did it for others, right?"_ Sena wished he could have forgotten those words. Those very words that struck an arrow through his heart.

" _That person sounds like someone, while a coward, would rather suffer himself than let others suffer because of him."_

He wasn't the type of person to do that. He didn't thinks so, at least. He was a coward, a clutz and maybe not even alive at this point.

But maybe...

Maybe Sena wasn't the one who was meant to win.

"This is- this is dangerous. It's _stupid_ to go but..." Sena pulled out his phone and started typing as he ran to the changing rooms. "I guess _I'm_ stupid, too."

* * *

The empty seat on the bench was enough for Hiruma to connect the dots. The shrimp had run at the first sound of pain and even though the Cupids match was a boost in confidence, Oujo's White Knights were practically an omen for amefuto teams. You go against them, 90 percent of the time you'll lose.

Hiruma wanted to understand but by fucking god it was hard.

For some reason, probably because Hiruma and Kurita were the first people in the world to show the shrimp physical affection, Sena had stuck around like glitter on clothing.

It was almost worrying. Half the time the shrimp looked at him like he was the devil, the other half was an unreadable mix of awe and hope. With just a smidgen of pain.

The way he looked at him could only be reminiscent of whoever hurt Sena. Whoever snapped the shrimp hard enough for simple similarities to make scars throb with pain. Whoever looked like him. But judging by the fact that Sena had stayed in the amefuto club rather than run for the hills showed that the mystery asshole and he were not cut from the same cloth. Just in the same color. Or pattern. Or however the fuck the saying went.

Still, the way the shrimp couldn't stand pain was strange on its own. It wasn't just how touchstarved he was, it was how the pain had afterglow. Like after a particularly hard fall he wasn't able to focus on the world around him. Were pain induced migraines a thing? Or was the shrimp a medical anomaly? The later seemed more truthful than the former.

Weighs nothing, goes temporarily brain dead when hit, fastest human alive as of the Cupids match and somehow has a near deathly fear of people who look like Hiruma.

The manager's theory was that Sena had been near brutally attacked and gained a concussion. His own theory said organ trafficking.

All this yet Hiruma couldn't understand the fluctuations in progress. One minute he's avoiding him like the plague, the other day he calls him a bastard to the face. One second he can throw three touchdowns in a row, the other he can't hold the ball and then suddenly he gains some form of bloodlust on the field.

Sena didn't have a pattern and that both infuriated and attracted Hiruma.

But this fucking game was important, _for fucks sake_! Have consistency, you little maggot!

So Hiruma decided, _fuck it_ , the shrimpcake and Cerberus were well acquainted enough, time to find the man.

So Hiruma gave Cerberus Sena's scent and let him loose to drag the ace back.

Today, however, the world is being inconsistent.

Cerberus managed to fly into the hallway before he yelped. _Yelped._

And Hiruma's mind went rigid. Cerberus is a simple mutt. He eats, sleeps, shits and occasionally hunts down whoever Hiruma points at. A simple, aggressive, fearless dog about the size of a human torso.

That dog _does not yelp_.

And then out of the entrance came the shrimp, decked out in uniform, holding a near feral and angry Cerberus with outstretched arms, shaking the mutt like he was a god damned Furby.

 _What the fuck._

This was good, very good because one, the shrimp didn't run and two, he actually went out to get dressed before Hiruma could even say anything. Which meant he wanted to fight Oujo and, as shocking as that was, it made Hiruma gleefully happy for some reason.

But this was also bad or rather suspicious because the shrimp had no arm strength. None. And he hated Cerberus. Not to mention he would rather be near Hiruma than the dog.

So how the fuck did he catch an airborne Cerberus, who no doubt probably lunged at him, and somehow had the common sense to start shaking him.

The shrimp was shaking the dog like it had _personally_ offended him. Which it did and did not like.

This alone is enough to throw the substitutes into awe. Because apparently a god awful mix of Corgi, German Shepherd and Caucasian Mountain dog with a pinch of chihuahua was considered to be a demon from hell.

Still, Hiruma was impressed. Sort of. He's impressed but that doesn't mean he's happy. Frankly because the almost inhuman sounds that Cerberus was making was scaring half the audience. He didn't even know the dog could make such a sound.

Plus that was _his_ dog that was being manhandled.

So Hiruma strolled over and grabbed the dog out of his hands. The shrimp's arms were still shaking before darting to his side. Looking through the eyeshield, he saw eyes darting between the field, their team and the audience.

 _Shit, something happened._

Yet nobody sees the tension in Sena's body like Hiruma does. He knows the shrimp is an open book, and that he's currently surrounded by idiots but something about the midget's state of mind that makes him easy to read. Too easy.

The manager's already doing her piece of networking through the punks that hurt the shrimp. His part is to get whatever he can out of the midget. Regroup, compile the evidence, draw the conclusion, _repeat_.

That and maybe go through the stacks upon stacks of discs of the whole town from his phone. Who knows, _maybe_ he'll find something.

With Cerberus out of biting distance, the substitutes started nearly worshipping the ground Eyeshield 21 walked upon. Shin was strong, but he couldn't have hit them _that_ hard last year.

"Sena, you didn't leave?" He heard the fatass whisper to the midget.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to." So he did want to fight Oujo! Good! "Everyone was so excited and motivated, it would have been lame for the Notre Dame to run away. Even if I'm nothing but dead meat, I want to give it a shot at being someone else. And I want to do my best. For you guys."

Fucking sentimental little shit.

"Plus, if I ran away, I feel like my head would've exploded."

Okay now this was interesting.

After a swift kick to the butt, Hiruma called for a huddle. But not before grilling the shrimp.

"What the fuck took you so long?" He hissed through his teeth.

"Snuck out while you were talking, had a heat stroke, nearly got possessed, almost broke the locker doors, had a mental breakdown." The shrimp was talking at fifty miles per hour.

Hiruma heard the words _"snuck out", "stroke", "possessed", "broke the doors" and "breakdown"._

"What the fuck?" Hiruma hissed, more quietly this time.

"Doesn't matter, huddle time."

Yes, yes it did. Yes, it _fucking mattered_ because what the fuck was going to happen if the shrimpcake suddenly got a heart attack during the game-

Wait, what was he even thinking? Heat stroke In _April_? It wasn't even that warm. Whatever, he'll grill him afer the match.

"We didn't come here to fight." Hiruma began. "We came here to slaughter them."

"Let's kick their asses!"

* * *

To Shin, the first playoff made him do double takes. For a while.

He's usually never benched. He couldn't remember when was the last time he was sitting back and watching the game instead of participating.

It felt off. Discomforting. Or maybe that was Eyeshield's doing.

Shin didn't listen to rumors, so he didn't know who they were. All he knew was that they were known in the amefuto society. He often heard Sakuraba talk about networking and information gathering. Shin had to agree that studying the opponent is important, almost crucial, but the source needed to be reliable.

They don't have any reliable information on Eyeshield and his actions are even more confusing. They're patternless.

Yet Shin feels drawn to the player. Intrigued, that was the word. Shin didn't think that Deimon would get an ace in the hole player. No, he _hoped_. A part of him wanted to feel the thrill, the challenge of a new enemy.

And Eyeshield is nothing if not an assassin, hiding in the shadows, quick to respond and fast on their feet.

But he's clumsy. Not in the way that makes him trip but in the way that he's _not-_

Shin can't really put it into words. It's as though Eyeshield isn't whole. As though it's his body, but also not. Not yet. Like a tree with buds on the branches but no leaves. There's the way he walked, how he knew what was to come but he's an amateur in the same field.

Like a cherry blossom that has yet to bloom. Shin cut that thought off. No, not a cherry blossom. The way they seemed to almost flow through the air, the small hint of orange glow on the visor and a curved but athletic figure made Shin think of japanese maple trees. Brown, orange and golden leaves during fall that crunch under his feet on his jogs, a type of bark that curves and morphs with the wind. If Shin had been able to comment as a break from training, he'd say they're beautiful.

Shin shook his head. No, no time to get distracted.

The other thing about Eyeshield was that they were afraid. Not from the odd looking boar Deimon had, or by the crowd or their team. No, it was something else. It's a deep seated fear. One Shin couldn't bring to mind. The way they walked, moved their arms and looked over the crowd.

They're manic, unhinged and raw. Shin almost felt relieved to know he was on the bench.

And then they sped off. The way they moved, the way the dirt got caught in their spikes and flew off them, the sheer velocity and centrifugal force of their run. It made Shin want to take off for the field.

Until he saw the way Eyeshield held the ball. Ah, an amateur.

That meant they're no threat. _Yet_.

Shin felt happy about that last part. How strong would they be, how fast would they run, what tactics would they use, what technique would they develop? Questions like those made Shin dream.

The fight in Eyeshield wasn't bad but the potential they had, it was almost oozing off of them. Shin felt a restless shiver take over him.

He wanted to see that. To see this Eyeshield in their prime. He wanted to see them flourish, even if it was simply for his own desire to fight against someone with a speed like that.

But Shin couldn't challenge someone without going against them directly. He needed to know for sure but he was benched. Maybe, maybe the coach will rethink his decision.

Until then, Shin would sit there, restlessly consumed by invisible impatience.

* * *

Sena tried to listen to the huddle, he really did. But there's something in the crowd that was bugging him.

He felt watched. By the crowd, by the TV station and even by the opposing team. It made him feel like a loud fly in the room. The amount of attention that was diverted to him was smothering him.

It didn't help that the Hiruma radar was giving him _hives_ and not from Hiruma himself but from someone in the crowd on the benches-

Sena tried not to think about it too much. He thought that if Hiruma was a demon wholly invested in American football, then what's stopping other demons from enjoying the incredibly violent sport. Nobody, no doubt.

It didn't help that he could feel his skin itch uncomfortably under the uniform. Maybe it wasn't hives, but it was an itch that clearly meant that something is in the stands and the contract doesn't like it. Sena _himself_ doesn't like it.

While Sena was relieved that Shin, a monster of a lineman, was benched but he felt almost cheated. The fear of Shin going up against him was so strong he almost anticipated the pain. He never thought that he'd be benched...

Sena's view drifted to the Oujo stall. He was just sitting there. Menacingly, as though a statue. As if he were bored. A miniscule part of Sena wanted to yell in front of the whole stadium what sort of coward-

Sena stopped that thought. No, the heat must be getting to him.

"A bunch of amateurs couldn't possibly stop the White Knights. So I'm not expecting a perfect block." Hiruma explained before raising his hand. "0.5 seconds. Each of you have to delay your target for half a second and during that time, Eyeshield will run through."

' _We're sticking to giving the ball to me.'_ Sena thought. Alright, he had a shield for half a second. That... didn't sound reassuring.

"Now get ready, bastards!" And with that the huddle was broken up. Sena sighed and started walking by the length of the field. He couldn't get close to the benches or Mamori without risking a compromise in the secret identity, so all he could do was stand. And try to walk off the searing pain of that run he did. Hiruma and Kurita couldn't believe that he didn't know how to hold a ball. In Sena's defense, he was probably the only running back in the first match and they didn't have any other runners on the team. Or maybe because Hiruma and Kurita _lived and breathed amefuto_ so much that they forget that there are people who aren't fluent in the sport.

"Sena! Sena!" He head Kurita call out to him.

"Yeah?"

"The white knights' defence is probably number in Japan. Getting past it alone is very difficult, but" What sort of pep-talk was this?! "The line and Ishimaru-kun, think of us as your shields!"

Something about leaving the team to the wolves left a sour taste in Sena's mouth.

He couldn't really see them as shields. Or maybe he couldn't see them as canon fodder. He wasn't sure why. Was it because he was too afraid of relying on them? They were all better athletes than Sena, so why?

He shook his head. No, now is not the time.

As soon as the line was formed, Sena realized his suspicions weren't because of reliance, but because the linemen of Oujo nearly radiated an aura of danger.

But still. The cleats on his feet made him feel like he could dig into the earth. None of the slippery feeling of other shoes. Like a foundation on soil.

The ball in his hand felt secure, now that he knew how to hold it. As if he was wearing armor.

But most of all was the team. Sena couldn't explain but he felt the anticipation and fear off of them. He could feel them, as if an extension of himself, but with all of their focus turned towards the knights, whilst his own was towards the the field. Weird.

"Hut!"

And with that all hell broke loose. Sena grabbed the ball and made a run for it, mustering all of the focus he had to attempt to mimic that "faster" run.

 _'Lose all fear and become-_ '

A lineman was charging at Sena. Sena started thinking on how to run past him when he felt it. Another presence running behind him but it wasn't an enemy. He didn't know how he could tell that.

'Shield!' Sena's mind realized. The shield was running on his left. The lineman was trying to stop Sena.

So Sena turned left. And so did the lineman, right into the shield's path. Leaving the shield to stop the lineman as he turned right.

Sena felt more people behind him, like the presence before. There were three more linemen.

And his body started moving on its own. Gone was any coherent thought, leaving only the strategy _(run, confuse, trap, escape)_ and the goal. All that was left was the feeling of wind brushing against his fangs and the ball clutched in his claws as he felt himself morph with the wind.

Soon he felt himself be chased. Yet instead of fear, he felt giddiness. Glee and mirth as he went past the ten yard mark.

"You'll never catch me. _Never in **hell**."_ He said without knowing.

"TOUCHDOWN!" Yelled the referee as Sena blinked again, reality slamming back into full swing.

Sena had but a moment to breathe before he was swarmed by his teammates. Every pat on the back, fueled with pride, joy and sincerity felt like a tsunami.

But Sena couldn't seem to care for even the burning on his throat as he was in the middle of his team.

This. _This_ blew the feeling of wining against the Cupids right our of the water. And Sena couldn't help but get hooked on such a supernova.

* * *

If Shin wasn't entranced before, he was now. Thoroughly entranced. He barely heard the coach say anything about Deimon.

The fear in his run had disappeared and was replaced with something glorious. Something riveting. Something that immediately pulled Shin into it, pushing him forward like a strong wind. A fearless run that radiated like the sun, that took all the attention from the players to the sole runningback. Something electrifying that made Shin's body seize up. His form, his technique - _so wild, brutal and quick yet elegant, swift and-_

Shin has never felt like this in his whole life. He had to get on the field. He needed it. He didn't want to sit behind the benches like this, when a runningback, when such a strong rival was on the field where he was meant to be.

Shin realized he had been staring intently at Eyeshield 21. So much that the player had felt his gaze and turned to him.

When Shin saw those bright orange eyes shine through the green eyeshield with a hollow intensity that pierced his soul, his breath got caught in his lungs. They appeared in half a second and were gone the next but Shin could still feel them on him. They sent a shiver down his spine and made him crave that intense look, those eyes that challenged him.

That's it. He was playing next set, coach be damned. He _needed_ to do this.

"Coach-"

"No, Shin. We can't let you out in the field. What happened just now must have been a fluke."

Shin wanted to protest. There's no way that touchdown was a fluke. That runner was fast and constantly changing. Constantly growing. Constantly evolving. If Eyeshield was a beginner, then he would become even stronger with every match.

Shin wanted to see it. That growth of speed and power. He wanted someone like that.

Someone who could keep up with him and make him go beyond his limits.

* * *

The crowd had erupted in murmurs and accusations while he could see most gawk in disbelief. They couldn't believe what they just saw.

Deimon, a near abysmal team, had scored a touchdown against the great Oujo White Knights. And Hiruma fucking reveled in it. He knew that fucking mophead was watching and this whole match was going to be broadcasted on television no less. Revenge was sweet. Revenge against the White Knights was sweeter. Revenge, knowing that everyone is watching, tasted even _sweeter_. While Hiruma wasn't a fan of overly sweet confectionery, he could appreciate just how good it felt to get what you want in a flawless execution.

And the shrimp wasn't giving off that weird vibe anymore. He still had an air of something that Hiruma could only assume to be fear but there was something a bit more manic in it. It was still there but this time less fearful and more... upbeat. Like the shrimp was enjoying himself.

 _Good_. Knowing that the shrimp was going to get hooked on amefuto left a very pleasant feeling Hiruma. And if he didn't, well, he didn't really have a choice but that would have made things harder. The shrimpcake wasn't going to put his all in the field if he didn't want to.

Can't help someone if they don't want help, and all that bullshit.

But all that aside, this meant that Oujo wasn't going to keep the kid gloves on for long. No, the only other team capable of scoring against them was Shinryuji. And when they played against those bastards, it meant war.

Whatever, their main objective is to win this match. And the shrimp was their key to it. Even if that run left an bittersweet taste in his mouth. He didn't know why, or how, which made his blood boil. Knowing that at some points, something shifted in the shrimp which made him faster, or maybe even more confident, yet not knowing how that happened, why it _happened-_

Hiruma cut that thought off. He could feel how something shifted in the shrimp, to the very way he ran. Disassociation? That could be one, but if so, then would that mean he'd experienced whatever happened to him as he was running. Or as he was chased. And for this to happen several times? Might have to dump some of those self-therapy books on the shrimp. Hell knows Hiruma can't help him in that department without the midget assuming he was going to interrogate him.

That story about robbing someone by car was sounding a little more plausible by the minute.

Whatever, vehicular manslaughter or no, Sena had a thing for being deathly afraid of cars and ran like a motherfucker when involved with pain. He stored those two connected dots into the back of his mind, focusing on the game.

Let's see what that damned Shin- _Oh_.

Shin was staring at the shrimpcake like if he didn't go run into the field and tackle him in that very moment, the midget would dissappear. And that spoke volumes, considering Shin had the emotional range of a fucking tree.

He could almost see the bench bending under his grip from here.

That's... _worrisome_.

It was too far for Hiruma to see if Shin was looking at him with complete fury or undying rivalry.

So he called everyone for another huddle, even if only to stop the shrimp from continuing eye contact with him. No need to provoke an angry bear.

Seeing the shrimp fumble around the explanation of try-for-point was almost funny but it made all the better knowing the shrimp was taking this seriously.

"We'll go for try for point with a kick, since nobody here knows how to kick, I'll be doing it." And of course this wouldn't have been a fucking problem if Musashi was here but wasn't going to be pointing fingers. Musashi had an obligation to his family, to his father who, unlike Hiruma's, was a father worth respecting. He wasn't going to force him to drop everything for football but by fucking hell he wished he could. But those were old wounds, and that wasn't helping anyone. "I don't mean to brag but my kick has power but no aim. So,"

He snatched the positioner out of the manager's hand.

"Eyeshield 21! You'll be our guy." The shrimp looked genuinely confused.

"My runs are my strongest point, I'm not sure about kicks." He replied, voice dropping an octave or two. How the fuck was nobody noticing what he sounded like? Idiots, a majority of them.

"I know. So when you get the ball, we'll pull a fake. If someone gets past the line before I kick, you fucking run for the second touchdown. Otherwise, just put it on the damn thing and cover me."

The shrimp's posture changed, eyes moving from the goal line to the Knights.

"...I think I can do that." There was something cryptic in that sentence but Hiruma ignored it. The shrimp was a weird little shit, so no point in gauging that.

They got in position and the ball was thrown to the shrimp.

Hiruma wound up, ran and swung his leg-

And the shrimp grabbed the ball and made a run for it.

Then that fucking dumbass Waraoota charged in. Hiruma could almost hear the weird sound of fear Sena made. Whatever, next play wasn't going to change position, so the shrimp was free to run all he could. It was funny too, considering he accidentally ran over the _fucking TV station._

Crazy, cowardly, little bastard.

Which meant it was time to dish out the lucky punch.

* * *

Sena's head was beginning to ring from all the cheering the fans did. How could so few people make _so much noise?_ All that Oujo did was switch to offense. Was there something different in that? They didn't have enough people for other sets but Sena wasn't going to complain. He frankly couldn't. It was too loud to even form any complaints.

Another resounding cheer, louder in pitch, made Sena's head throb with pain, causing him to wince and try to stifle the headache by rubbing his eyes under the eyeshield. He tried breathing, making sure air was moving into his head so he could hopefully lessen the pain. Brains needed oxygen to function, and Sena would prefer not to have permanent brain damage to be coupled with a skeleton that does and doesn't exist.

Was Sakuraba really this popular? It was hard to believe. Sena had imagined that amefuto wasn't incredibly popular in Japan, but with so many fans from just one team? Maybe he should reconsider, this headache wasn't going away. Judging by Hiruma's disgusted and annoyed look, he felt a little better knowing he wasn't the only one annoyed by the crowd.

He wasn't the best with noise. Not after the accident. With how high strung he was the first two months, he jumped and panicked at even the most mundane noises. He still wasn't better but at least he wasn't jumping out of skin every time Pitt knocked something over. Like a book or a glass left on the counter.

"Eyeshield?" Sena nearly jumped out of his skin. It was Ishimaru. "Are you okay? You seem a little tense."

Crap, Ishimaru had noticed and Hiruma probably heard that. Quick, think of an excuse!

"It's fine. It's been a while since I've played in an open match and this one is pretty loud on its-" Another loud cheer caused Sena to flinch and seize up, "own..."

"Are you sure you're okay? We're still on timeout, technically. We could ask Mamori for some ice-"

"He'll be fine." Hiruma's voice cut through the noise like a knife through butter. True, he didnt want to get Mamori involved. It would be best if Sena had avoided any confrontation with her while he was Eyeshield. "You heard him, he's used to this. All he needs to do is get on the field."

Sena nodded stiffly.

"It's okay, I'm fine, Ishimaru-kun. The crowd is already-" And then there was another loud cheer which made Sena violently flinch. Seriously, what was up with the crowd? "...Dying down."

Hiruma and Ishimaru were both staring at him, the former sporting an unreadable expression and the latter being worried. Sena wasn't used to seeing such stares.

"Alright, maybe I'm a little sensitive to sound. But it's nothing." Now both of them looked unimpressed at the half-truth.

"Really? Mind telling-" a whistle interrupted Hiruma. All three players looked at the referee, who finally got the fans to quiet down. "Fucking finally. C'mon, time for the next play."

Sena sighed in relief. Peace and quiet. Well, short lived peace as the next play was going to start soon. But still, he could enjoy this quiet while it lasted.

He waited with a baited breath as he got in position. He suddenly felt so open, being separated from the defense and himself. The hives were back too. Who kept staring at him like that?!

Then came the pass from Oujo. It flew through the air like a paper plane. Sena could just watch as it flew past him before running after it. He saw a number- 18- grab the ball before dropping on the line. Ten additional yards. Sena was... almost disappointed. He knew that there were two ways to go after catching the ball. You ran to get more yards or you dropped on the nearest if there were too many enemies heading for the ball. The coast for 18 was clear. So _why-_

A loud cheer went through the stadium. Wait. Was Sakuraba number 18? Wasn't he supposed to be better at this. Sena had just started and he didn't know how long Sakuraba was playing but he had better experience. Right?

 _Or no?_

Still, he had to let him get it. That was the strategy, after all. They were almost playing tag with the opposing team. And he was playing it.

He just had to find the right moment when he could intercept. That throw wasn't it. But But he couldn't have them figure it out. And he couldn't have his bones grow cold. It was easier when they were burning when he could run faster than usual.

So he had to wait and stoke the fire.

Which went on for three more passes. And Sena was getting anxious. None of the four passes felt like they reachable but they were close, too close to the touchdown. He had to make this one count, or else it'll even out the score. That would be bad. That would mean he would have to raise rhe score and get a touchdown, which meant he might get tackled and he did not want to experience and new level of pain so early in his life. Or rather his existence.

He had to make sure the ball would be thrown in a way that made them think he couldn't reach it but would still get to it. So he was standing on the edge of the left side of the line. Less visibility, Sakuraba wasn't close. He had to smother his presence.

He had to be a ghost for half a second. Ghost. Sounds easy enough, he was a ghost for six months, what's another second or two?

Then the ball flew and Sena felt it in his bones. _This one._

And so he dug into the dirt and kicked off, one single thought in mind.

Intercept.

Sakuraba was almost thirty centimeters taller than him, he had to catch it before it reached his arm length.

" _Catch it."_ A voice, almost similar to Hiruma's and as silent as a whisper crossed his mind.

His hands reached out. His fingers dug into the ball as glee flowed through him. And then the ball popped out of his hands.

 _"I grabbed too hard!_ " Sena thought. His legs tried to move towards the direction the ball had fallen and his hands reached out but friction made him fall back into Sakuraba. Shit! _Shit, the ball-_!

And out of nowhere, the hairs on his back went ramrod straight followed by sound of ground dirt.

"Good work, midget!" Hiruma flashed him a smile full of teeth and bright eyes before running.

There was half a second of peace before Sena's mind, body and heart started racing after the quarterback.

His bones felt on fire, his mind went cold, he was acting on instinct yet he knew what to do. And his heart felt like it was a shooting star, burning with a form of dopamine he couldn't name.

Hiruma ran in the interception before turning.

 _"Catch it."_

And as Hiruma tossed the ball, like a ghost turned specter, Sena flew out of the shadows, eyes burning as he grabbed the ball. And with that, he felt as though some form of restrictions have been lifted and _Sena-_

Sena felt free and let go, letting himself morph with the air that almost cut on his skin.

He ran past the linemen and let himself flow. Faster, faster, closer to freedom, _closer to the point past-_

 _A hand suddenly pushed him to the side and Sena tripped into the dirt._

"Out!" Sena lifted himself off the ground as he felt himself go back to the land of the living.

What just happened? He jumped back on his feet and looked around. Oujo lineman, people, benches- he was pushed out or the field.

"Damn it!" Sena whispered to himself before he saw how far back the line was. He... nearly crossed the entire field. Well, maybe that's not a complete loss.

"Good work on turning the tables, you radioactive little shit!" He heard above him as his head was almost loving pushed down and rubbed. He looked up to see Hiruma giving him a smile that made his heart race again.

"No. Thanks for catching the ball." Sena replied. Might as well weaponise the crush he had, not like it was doing anything else.

"Save them for when we win the match, now listen..."

Sena carefully listened to the plan. That... huh, that sounded reasonable, yeah...

Thinking over the plan, Sena nodded as he went to position.

The ball went, he grabbed it, gave it back and ran. He got chased by Waraoota for about five yards before the advance was announced. He felt lightheaded. This- this felt great, they could win. They could actually win this. And somehow, that made him all the more elated.

And then it was drowned out by a feeling of dread and a sharp sudden realization.

"Heh, coming out this early in the game, huh?" He heard Hiruma say. He turned and saw the very player he had been dreading walk out into the field, glaring at him with almost unreadable intent.

 _Shin was playing._

He didn't know what to think of Shin except for intimidating.

Especially when he was walking towards Sena like that. Sena could handle being stared at by a stadium but this? Shin's undivided attention was too much.

"Hey, your rival's here. Go intimidate him!" He heard Hiruma say before getting a swift kick forward.

 _'Why?! I can barely handle him looking at me?!'_

And so he bumped right into Shin's torso- this guy was huge- and stare right into those dark eyes.

Sena really had nothing to say. Sena's mouth, however.

"How are you so tall?" Sena blurted out without thinking. Fuck! How was that and the match connected in any way!

All Shin did was blink. Once. Twice.

"I... never thought about it."

"Really?"

"I suppose I am simply naturally tall."

"Sounds fun."

"...Yes." Sena was then met with awkward silence and simply gently shook his head. How was this his life?

Shin gave a stiff nod before going to his team.

"What the fuck was that?!" He heard Hiruma yell at him. He simply shrugged as he walked back.

"I wanted to throw a curveball?" Sena replied meekly.

"Whatever. We're getting serious, so the kid gloves come off. The _real game_ is about to begin."


	6. You are fire, you are fine

In which everyone gets some form of satisfaction and internal crisis. Welcome to this 16K word hot mess.

WARNING: this chapter contains some description of body horror and gore. Not sure how bad it is but like heads up.

Shin was now entering the match. _Shin_ , who was previously known to put players into the hospital. _Shin_ , who was staring at Sena like he was peeling layers of skin and muscle tissue off, layer by layer.

Sena wonders if this is the moment of revelation. The moment where he fully understood that today, _today_ is the day they put his burning and breathing corpse into the ground where it belonged.

For a moment, the air now seemed too hot. A stark contrast to the icy cold heat stroke he felt a mere half hour ago.

He realized he was staring back at Shin with almost blank intensity when a hand smacked his shoulder. _Ow._

"Earth to shrimp, get your head in the game!" Sena snapped his head back at the quarterback and nodded his head. Maybe it's the sudden revelation that's put Sena into a near soundless state. Or was he doing something else? "Whatever. Focus, you hear?"

Sena took a deep breath before exhaling. Okay, yeah, he could do that. He'll breathe. It was worrisome that he realized he was going to die right now and yet he was almost stone cold in terms of feeling.

* * *

Hiruma has never seen point blank disassociation but it was fucking eerie when the shrimp did it.

One minute he was standing like a normal person then suddenly going ram-rod straight like he was electrocuted. The look in his eyes- eyes blown open, pupil the size of a pin and starkly bright eyes- was either a show of cold bloodlust or the revelation of a life time. What the fuck. What sort of fucking effect did Shin have on the midget?

Fuck it, they'll figure it out.

And so Hiruma started yelling pass plans. That was a fat fucking lie, of course, but if it managed to throw the Knights off just a little then it worked. If it got Sena out of that ghostly silent phase he had, staring at him like he was the asshole of the century, then it worked.

And it fucking worked.

Back was the shitty little midget who was now shivering from either fear or adrenaline and Otawara was a fucking dumbass.

"You're gonna break through the center." He whispered to the runningback.

"What? Shin's going to be guarding the middle! I'll get _killed_!"

"That's only if he gets you."

"But!"

"Repeat what I just said."

"Shin will kill me." Hiruma resisted to urge to slam his hand against his face. A few screws loose to the point of falling out, that's what this idiot had. A sudden look of understanding went over him. " _If he gets me._ So I need to dodge him as much as I can."

"See? Not hard to understand."

"Okay but what happens if he _does_ get me?"

"He'll tackle you."

"And then I'll die." That's when Hiruma's hand did collide with his face.

"He's put people in the hospital, not killed them. If he did, he wouldn't be fucking playing. Or even _in school_ as a matter of fact. He'd be in fucking juvenile detention. Does that man look like he's been to prison?!"

"No, but I am nothing more than a soft bag of muscle and meat which happens to move at lightspeed." Sena gestured from his shoulders to his knees repeatedly, hands shaking wildly. "He's going to smear my guts across the field. _I'll **die**._"

That put a disgusted sneer on Hiruma's face. There was something unsettling and wrong with the idea of the shrimp dying to him. Or how convinced he was that the minute Shin touches him, he'll explode like a god-forsaken meat grenade.

First the welcome entrance into the match, then the absolutely messed up way he acted, seemingly becoming a rapid monster of speed and then back to a fish with no bones. Kobayakawa Sena didn't have a pattern in behavior which was a show of either four separate personalities fighting for control or the Oujo were showing signs of behavior, _familiar_ behavior, which caused him to act on impulse, instincts and habit. Fight or flight response, except for the midget it was fight, flight or _both_ at the same time.

Hiruma's hands were itching to get to those tape archives he had.

"Listen, you know those braces on the gear? That's your armor, it doesn't matter if Shin has a jackhammer for an arm, that's the thing keeping your bones from breaking as long as you dodge correctly. You're not gonna die." _You're safe._ "So don't worry about it." _So tell me what happened._

"Now move your ass before I actually consider ending Shin's career with a crime scene."

Sena went quiet, tense shoulders loosening. Almost as if a connection was made. A cut off string connecting to another.

"Alright. I'll leave my life in your hands..." Something inside Hiruma clicked, as if a switch was flipped.

For a moment, he felt aware of the grass under his feet, the birds in the air, the footsteps and vibrations in the ground. And it was gone in the next.

Hiruma brushed it off.

* * *

Shin was excited. Incredibly excited. Well, he couldn't call it excitement, when it was more anticipation.

He was placed out of the line and closer to the touchdown line.

A higher likelihood of a stand-off with Eyeshield. It made him impatient. Giddy. In all the years that he'd been playing in the field of sports, many had challenged him. They came with bravado, achievements and zealous pride. Only to walk away with fear and apprehension at the end of the match.

Not Eyeshield. _Not him._ Not with the cold intensity of his gaze, with the pinpoint accuracy of it, like someone zeroing in on a person in a crowd. His orange eyes had caught his in less than a second and the sheer aura of killing intent oozing from them made Shin's muscles tense up.

He felt like there was a similar streak between Eyeshield and Kongo Agon from Shinryuji. Not in terms of personality or performance- Agon was a monster of a player in either, Eyeshield seemed _less_ confrontational and more flexible in both- but in the way when they saw something they wanted to fight, they zero in on it and _don't let go._

But Eyeshield was no Agon. Eyeshield was a whole different breed of a monster that Shin, _much to the horror of Sakuraba_ , was hellbent on facing.

Shin couldn't wait for the referee to finally begin.

"HUT!" And there was the sound that made Shin dig his feet into the ground. Just as Eyeshield ran to his right, Shin's eyes were glued on him. But then he saw the line.

 _There were three people so-_

Eyeshield was going to break through the center and run straight at him, in full velocity. The undivided attention made Shin feel a little unhinged. Eyeshield runs with a speed so ridiculous it gives him the impression that he had _wings._

Or rather, Eyeshield went through the center but not the part of the center where Shin was. Then maybe he's challenging him in both speed and ability?

Shin's head snapped to where Eyeshield and the lineman 77 were running. Who was Shin if he were to let them pass? Nobody.

 _Not this time._

He ran at Eyeshield and 77, before the lineman ran at him to attempt to block him. _Kurita Ryokan_ , his mind supplied. His spirit and determination was fitting for a lineman. But Shin had a mountain of that more.

 _'Get out of my way.'_

He ran past Ryokan with ease. His eyes settled on Eyeshield. There was a manic, somewhat crazed laugh that escaped him. Was it disbelief? Or was it delirious satisfaction?

Either way, Shin wanted to see just who this person is.

Just how _fast_ is he. Just how _stubborn_ is he. Just how much does he _want to get under Shin's **skin.**_

There was a part of him that steeled himself, telling him that he was a knight of the kingdom and he would not let anything pass. But there was another, more sinister albeit smaller part that wanted him to get under _Eyeshield's_ skin just as much as he did with his.

Shin pushed that part down as he ran at Eyeshield. Eyeshield ran towards him in return.

And suddenly Shin's brain cuts off all the noise in the world, leaving a ringing vacuum of air.

The world is going too fast and too slow at the same time. He vaguely remembered how Sakuraba once ate several mints and peppers at the same time, screaming on about how _"this is what hellfire tastes like"_.

 _Then_ , Shin thought, _this is what space felt like._

Just as Eyeshield got nearer and nearer, Shin suddenly started seeing doubles.

There were now _two Eyeshields,_ both giving the impression that they're about to run in the opposite directions. Two clones, both with bright orange eyes stare into his soul and Shin, for a split second, wondered if this was how people felt when they went braindead.

Shin's brain can't keep up with his eyes and the conclusion that he was seeing a mirage came only once Eyeshield was a foot away from him.

In half a second, Shin's brain shut down, turned on and reeboted itself in that very order. In half a second, his reflexes went into overdrive as his body did a one-eighty turn, arm hooking itself around Eyeshield's ribcage.

His hand dug into his side and Shin expects the familiar creek of armor against his strength, the stubborn push of ribs against his hand.

It never came.

The world suddenly goes into slow-motion.

Shin's always been aware of his ridiculous strength. He's not tech-savvy and ends up breaking every piece of technology he touches. Spoons and utensils bend under his grip if he squeezes them too hard. Sometimes he even broke lockers from one motion done too hard.

He's aware that he has incredible strength. American football is the one field in his life where he can use it freely, without worrying about using too much of it. It's the one field where he felt comfortable with his strength.

 _Until it isn't._

Instead his hand pressed further and further into Eyeshield's side, to the point where Shin wondered when is it going to stop. Instead, Shin's hand feels _Eyeshield's **heart.**_ It's so close, so _damningly close_ that Shin almost **_feels_** the organ beat against the skin, against his hand in a wild rhythm.

A flash of cold fear shoots through Shin. _Where was the gear that kept the players from injuring themselves and **where were Eyeshield's bones?**_

And then they land on the ground.

It's barely a fraction of a second of them lying together when Shin let go of Eyeshield and got off the ground. He stares. Eyeshield shook his head, as if to shake off a headache. There's a momentary hiss from his mouth and Shin can no longer see his eyes.

He's alive. Eyeshield is _alive_ and Shin had gone into a new form of a nightmare in _exactly one second._

Shin doesn't know who to thank because he had wholeheartedly believed he broke right through Eyeshield's gear and nearly crushed his bones into dust.

Eyeshield gets up along with him with a groan, winding his left hand up and down as if to test something. _Did he dislocate his arm?_

Their eyes meet and Shin realized he was staring.

"..."

"..."

The silence is almost deafening. And then Eyeshield spoke.

"That was-" He coughed before lowering his voice. "That was a solid tackle. Haven't felt that much fear of death in months."

 _What?_

"That's- that's probably not _ideal_." Shin spoke without thinking. Eyeshield seems to have gotten the gist of it and his entire body language turned awkward. As if Shin hadn't touched one of his primary organs just five seconds ago. _Something that still has Shin reeling._

"It's, uh, good for the adrenaline." There was a beat of silence. "I'm gonna go now."

There's a million questions running through Shin's mind and he voices none of them.

Instead, he _takes the massive burst of panic, shoves it into a metaphorical bottle, throws it into the back of his mind and focuses on other things._ Like the fact that Eyeshield's arms are not that of an athlete.

* * *

Sena feels like he's gone back in time, back to six months ago because this had to be what getting hit by a car felt like.

There is a remediate moment of panic when Shin grabbed his side. Which then turned into fear because the weird non-existent demon bones were suddenly _**not working** and holy shit Shin had his heart in **his hand-**_

The only thing that stopped Sena from bursting into full blown delusional panic was the inscrutable fact that everyone is watching and if anyone finds out he will die or be experimented on. So the closest thing he had to a reaction was a mental scream of profanities and a hiss.

The pain of falling on the ground with a comparable giant attached was a familiar feeling that left him with a headache and ringing that kept bouncing off the side of his body.

The pain of nearly having his organs bruised, _on the other hand,_ was a whole new level of bodily pain. The ringing was accompanied with a near high pitched screech that pulsed with every beat of his heart. There's a burning, sizzling encompassing the entirety of his left side that seemed to creep into every cell.

Overall, Sena felt like he had a a molten metal door pressed to his chest and the migraine of the century. All he could hear as he walked away from Shin was the tell tale yell of fans and every siren in the world blasting in his head.

He's vaguely aware his teeth are tightly pressed together.

Shin had tackled him and Sena wondered how he hadn't gone into a catatonic state from the familiarity of the pain.

It doesn't help that what could have been a friendly, _professional exchange_ of compliments turned into Shin looking at him like he's shocked Sena's still alive.

A rather awkward step causes Sena to bite back a hiss as his feet and joints burn. Good ol' pain, the ultimate motivator in self-preservation. The use of which he no longer has.

Sena vaguely realizes he's already near the huddle.

"Oi." Hiruma said, his eyes glued on Shin on the other side of the field.

"What?"

"What did you tell Shin? He looks like he's seen a ghost. Or the gates of hell."

"Wh- all I did was compliment his tackle." Sena replied, mind finally working.

"He's as pale as a sheet. Like he just saw a murder and was told to keep it quiet."

Wait. _Wait, wait, wait, **wait wait-**_

" _Oh no._ " Sena says without realizing. Shin literally palmed his organs, he _had_ to have felt that! _Which meant Shin-_

Shin was vaguely aware that Sena's body was either lacking bones or had something wrong with it. His head spun to the Oujo team.

Shin really did look like he just came out of watching a horror movie.

"Oh no _what?_ What happened?"

"How good is Shin in Biology or Anatomy?"

"He's from Oujo, it's an elite school. He doesn't _suck at it_ but it's obviously above average."

Sena made strangled noise of understanding, a small hysterical laugh shaking his shoulders.

If Shin was a man of honor then maybe he would come to the conclusion that Sena had a rare disease and wouldn't want to talk about it.

Sena did not know if Shin was a man of honor so God _fucking help him_. Maybe Hiruma could _curse Shin into forgetting-_

 **No!** No, oh _what the hell was he thinking!?_ No, no, _no, bad brain!_ Nobody is getting extorted or memory wiped. Not after everything that had happened.

It's then when he realized Shin had turned to look at him.

Sena had leveled him a stare, both apologetic and stern. Which somehow caused Shin to flinch, to stare into his very soul, smack himself through the helmet and return the stare with a nod.

Sena feels like he's just made his whole life _infinitely_ harder.

* * *

Sena is right with his hypothesis because in the short time of the rest of the first half, Shin's managed to manhandle him, take back the ball and _score a touchdown_ , while Oujo decided to use a kick to raise the point.

And Shin keeps getting them yards and touchdowns until the difference is **_29 points._**

Overall, Sena feels like a sack of shit and his mood could be reflected on the rest of his team.

It's almost _frustrating_ how good Shin is in amefuto. It's even painful as he gets hit with tackle after tackle.

It's even worse knowing so because the burning fear that made his joints burn was cooling down, _little by little_. Sena's beginning to miss it.

The fear, frustration and overall horrid mood is building up and Sena feels like there's only so much he can do before he snaps.

So Sena runs off to the bathroom before anyone can object during the break. He needed to reapply his concealer and maybe check for additional bruising over his chest.

He doesn't want to play anymore. This was different from the Cupids match. This wasn't even a _match._ Just a show of power.

Sena felt helpless. Weak and useless. He hated it.

He wanted to leave it all behind. He wanted to _run_ , far away and _forget this whole thing._ It was painful, and Sena was reaching a boiling point which was dangerously close to overflowing.

But... _He couldn't_. The shame from the beginning of the match was still wearing on him. He couldn't just leave in _the middle of a match._ _It felt-_

It felt like he was throwing the whole team under the bus.

 _Was he though?_ It's been pretty hard just trying to get the ball, let alone getting it to the touchdown point.

Was he really the only one who was working? _Was he really alone in this?_

 _'I guess I've never been anything but alone'_ he thought. Suddenly the tattoo on his neck started burning. Not heating up, _legitimately **burning.**_

In absolute haste, Sena took off his shirt-

 _It grew. The tattoo fucking **grew, this was the worst day of his life.**_

The swirls and circles had turned into a mess of goetic patterns with arrows and turns branching out towards his left side. The side where _Shin had continued to grab him. Fucking shit-_

 _Please don't tell him it grew to his face, oh god-_ grabbing the pocket mirror from his bag, Sena looked over his face.

To say he was shocked was an understatement.

The tattoo hadn't grown, it fucking _moved_. The pattern changed, and that felt like a _huge warning sign_ but his neck was completely clear of any markings. For the first time in six and a half months, Sena could walk out into public without the need to conceal whatever abomination was on his neck.

This was not a good thing because change with this particular situation could never mean anything good.

Especially since the tattoo was pulsing. It was god damn _pulsing, how could that be a good thing?!_

And what if it decided to move back up his neck in the middle of the match?! What the _hell kind of design choice was this?!_ Did _Belial_ or whoever made these tattoos decided on this?! Did they wake up in the middle of the night and think to themselves _"Hey, you know what would be great? If the tattoos moved every blue moon from where they were to wherever! Wouldn't that be cool?"_? _Screw those people! What sadist enjoyed scaring the crap out of people after a potentially traumatic event!?_

How was he going to go out there _now?!_ He could hide his neck under concealer but that won't _help if it got to **his face**._ If it got to his arms then there would be no way for him to explain why he had a tattoo on him suddenly.

The burn increased in intensity as it started crawling back to his neck. It was strong enough that Sena could barely breathe silently.

He was in the bathroom with his neck burning and there were _people right outside the stall._

Slowly the pain ebbed away. Looking with the pocket mirror, Sena saw that it had gone back to the swirl patterns it once had, with the only difference being a thin arrow and interwoven swirls coming towards his heart.

In haste, Sena started applying the foundation.

Running back to the field, joints and ribcage thoroughly on fire and ready to get mauled into the ground _again_ , Sena, now Eyeshield, looked over the field.

Everyone looked _exhausted._

It's then when Sena begins to realize he's not the only one getting his ass thrown around the field.

The team visibly tensed when they finally noticed him.

"Eyeshield!"

"Hey." Sena lowered his voice. He turned to Ishimaru. "How are you holding up?"

Ishimaru flinched and Sena is suddenly aware of the guilty looks most of the replacement members were sporting.

The arrow on Sena's collarbone burns like salt on a wound. There's a disgusted feeling of disappointment in him.

It's no doubt everyone was down in the dumps from the Oujo performance but this left a bad taste in Sena's mouth.

"What's with the long faces? We're not under the bus yet. If we manage to stop them at the 29 point lead, we can get at least four touchdowns to even it out." That earned him some shocked looks. "More or less."

"You," Ishimaru spoke up. "You're not mad?"

Sena's body language immediately switches from false confidence to pure confusion.

 _Why would he be-_

Oh. Because he's Eyeshield 21, a _Notre Dame football superstar_ and right now they're losing by almost _30 points._ Sena completely forgot this was a team sport.

"We thought you'd be pissed at us. You've been taking Shin on all along, when we were supposed to help somehow."

"We couldn't even be proper shields during the first half." One of the players said.

"We assumed you'd be angry as hell for dragging you down." Another pipes up. "We get it if you don't wanna play with us newbies anymore."

There's a _very small, very protective_ part of Sena that suddenly goes _"no, this will not do."_

Where did Sena get that part, he didn't know but it was there making rounds.

"I'm mad at Shin, not you guys. We've been fighting this whole match and not all of us are physically built for football. We're a new team, it can't be helped. But,"

"But?" A very dark look overcame Sena. He had to seem _absolutely different_ as Eyeshield, so... _This is going to suck._

"But why don't we _at least **humiliate**_ the Oujo Knights with a tie? If their coach blew a fuse at even one touchdown, _let's see how many it takes for cardiac arrest!"_ Sena said with a near blinding smile. He never really had a sadistic streak but Oujo was bringing the worst out of him.

 _Quite literally._

Some of the players did a double take but soon erupted into small cheers. The morale had risen, _even_ if by a little.

And soon, Sena's bones would feel the burning, molten sensation of the field, each heartbeat pumping blood in sync.

For some reason, it brought him peace of mind and manic energy.

"If they want war, we'll give it to them."

The second half was about to begin.

* * *

Shin cannot take his eyes off Eyeshield. In the most _literal sense possible._

After the near shock inducing event of feeling Eyeshield's heart right in his hands, Shin wasn't sure if he could keep on playing. The idea of possibly killing a player, _Eyeshield_ at that, was too terrifying to imagine.

Shin wasn't good with his emotions, but he was partially aware that the adrenaline coursing through his veins was due to fear.

Maybe that was his _price_. Shin dedicated the entirety of his middle school years to American football and training, but in turn lost whatever networking skills and technological know-how in return. The strength he had wasn't always a blessing either. Broken phones, cracked screens, crushed plastic objects- if it was too fragile or if he had fumbled with it, Shin's hands would _break it_ past the point of return.

Maybe that was Eyeshield's _price_. For the sake of incredible speed and unbelievable flexibility, his skeleton and body had become fragile. So used to avoiding attacks and tackles that the body would be unable to take a hit.

A glass cannon. Or rather a glass sniper rifle. _Or maybe a glass bow?_ Shin wasn't sure. Even after the reassuring, understanding and challenging gaze he had received, Shin was still at a loss.

In fact, Shin had no idea how to go about the medical mystery that was Eyeshield.

What he did know was that he couldn't let Eyeshield go about him. Eyeshield was terrifying in the way that, had Shin been any less of the player he was, the runningback would have scored half a dozen times already.

It was maddening. Eyeshield could run about just almost as fast as Shin, his body almost being completely made of rubber as Shin had saw him nearly _slither_ through their linerbacks.

And Shin had to focus solely on him, because half a second too late and Shin would have let him pass.

The second half was nothing short of mental calculations and last minute adrenaline tackles.

 _Nobody_ should be able to bend and unbend their body so fast. No _body_ should be able to bend at those angles.

Eyeshield was a bamboo tree that bent to the wind and then proceeded to straighten itself out.

Shin was _fascinated._

And as Eyeshield ran a him at full speed, Shin anticipated his next move. _The left? The right? Where would he-_

Eyeshield was nearly inches away from him when he turned left. Shin's body moved to match him but before he could catch him, he spun and faced to the right.

 _A trick_. Eyeshield threw him off. Before he could, Shin's arm snapped, grabbing just barely the hem of his jersey.

He nearly passed him. _He nearly passed him._

The sheer velocity of Eyeshield's run was so strong, that the physical tension of both their forces knocked the other off the ground.

Shin could feel the way his elbow was pulled at even after the fall.

Shin couldn't wrap his head around it.

He should be tired. Eyeshield should be tired yet _little by little_ , he was getting _faster and faster._

He already matched his speed. Everything after _this_ would be Shin's blunder.

The third quarter was ending soon.

It was a painful reminder that soon, _soon this fight would be over._ It had an edge to it. That as the numbers on the clock shrunk, the tension, the desperation rose and would reach boiling limit.

That soon, Eyeshield would show him something _incomparable._

Shin could feel his muscles tense.

Eyeshield wasn't showing something and he couldn't tell what.

He couldn't tell if he was excited or dreading the moment.

As he walked back, the quarterback of the Deimon Devilbats said something to him.

"Eyeshield 21... Light-speed runningback from Notre Dame university..." Shin knew he shouldn't be listening. " _He's faster than you,_ yet somehow trying to humor you by _going slower."_

For an entire second, the cap that contained Shin's tension blew off. Yet all he had was dangerous worry.

Eyeshield was going _slower_ than usually? How? _Why?_ Was it because of something that happened? _Was he sick?_ Did he have a handicap for this match alone or _because of something else?_

"Nice try, but we don't get disturbed by such." Shin grit out as he hid his worry. He wished he couldn't hear Otawara yell in anger at the very same words but it seems like he was stuck with his yelling.

He sighed.

Shin wanted Eyeshield to run at him like it was the last time he would be running.

He craved the challenge but even more so the _acknowledgement._ He wanted Eyeshield to look at him and say _"I will run like I will have my legs sawed off if I do not."_

He wanted Eyeshield to deck all of his cards out against him. Because that's what Shin was doing to him. And Eyeshield bounced back every time.

He wanted to do the same for Eyeshield. He _wanted-_

 _Oh._ He wanted him and Eyeshield to fight like the world was ending. Like today would be _the last day they would ever play._

Was this what love felt like? This strong, unstoppable and burning desire to look into someone's eyes and feel the emotions in them? This yearning to be equal to someone and only this person?

The desire to be in the burning fire of battle and football with _Eyeshield and Eyeshield alone?_

...He'd have to ask Sakuraba after the match. Sakuraba knew more about that. He had to, right?

So now all he could do was sit there on the benches, consumed with yearning for the rest of the play.

* * *

Sena's bones were on fire in a way that made him wonder if this was what lava felt like.

 ** _Fuck._**

He felt that if he sat still for even a minute, he'd _explode._

The tattoo, the curse he had made him jittery and _overly powered when it wanted to,_ like for example _right now._

But this time _, and this time only_ , this was a _good_ thing. For the first time in half a year, the curse was doing him some good.

He nearly passed Shin. He nearly broke through then and he could almost taste the sweat on his nose as he ran.

One more time.

 _One more time_ and Sena would plow through Shin like a goddamned tiger.

Sena didn't know what this energy was but he felt many things. Manic, feral, _bloodthirsty_ and even down right focused.

This was addictive but a logical part of Sena knew he was going to be in _pain beyond this realm_ afterwards.

Sena had never felt so powerful and he felt like he could grab a giant python and start _swinging it around like a kusari-gama._

He didn't hate how he was benched. He just wanted to get on the field quicker.

He wanted to play, maybe because there was some form of satisfaction in seeing Shin quite nearly bolt to grab him. Maybe because he wanted vengeance for the now _50 point gap._

Maybe because... _he actually liked it._

He liked the fact that he could take what he was good at and be something with it. That he could forget the curse that hung over him like a death sentence and simply feel free.

Deimon switched to offense. _Sena couldn't be more relieved._

He was just off the bench when a helmet was slammed down on the opposite one. He saw Hiruma take his gloves off, teeth digging into the material as it slid off his hand.

Sena's confusion suddenly outweighed his burning bones and the raw power.

Hiruma, as if feeling Sena's eyes on him, turned to meet them before focusing back to packing his things.

Sena _swore_ he saw disappointment in those eyes.

"You can coast through the rest now." What. "I'm going home." _What?_

Sena almost felt hurt.

"We still had a one in a billion chance moments ago but it's gone now. They're gonna waste time with huddles and all. No point in sticking around anymore."

Sena's eyes drifted to the point board. Yeah, the situation was pretty bad. Plus, Sena was sure that no human being could run seven touchdowns in five minutes.

And Sena was a _dead human_. Chances weren't looking good.

But there was something wrong with Hiruma not playing until the end. He couldn't explain how or why but it just felt wrong.

Hiruma was smart but Sena was _bordering insanity_ in this moment. There was something in the back of his mind that told him that _no, Hiruma had to stay, even if just to watch him play._

Sena's impulsiveness beat his brain in terms of reaction speed.

Just as Hiruma nearly passed him, Sena felt Shin's gaze on him.

 _'Are you going to run?'_ Sena didn't want to run away.

 _'Are you going to be complacent?'_ A painfully cold voice made his teeth grit. No, he wouldn't, _he won't._

 _'Then do something.'_ It sneered.

Sena's claws grabbed the back of Hiruma's jersey and pulled him back.

"You're **staying.** " Sena said, something sharp bursting in his mouth.

Hiruma, who was now glaring at him from his shoulder, sighed.

"Didn't you hear me? Trying until the end-"

"I'm going to go against Shin, I'm using _that and I'm going to leave him in the dust._ You're going to ** _watch._** " If Sena had to go through tunnel vision again and again to get Hiruma to stay then he'll do it, _but he'll complain the whole way._

"And _what_ makes you think I'm going to watch?" Had Sena had more consciousness of what he heard, he would have heard the connotations on the word watch. As if Hiruma wanted to do _more_ than watch.

Instead, Sena, with strength that clearly wasn't his own, spun Hiruma, grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down until they were an inch apart.

"I'm fighting Shin and _you're going to watch."_

" _And why should I do that_?" Hiruma's eyes turned up in mirth.

Hiruma's eyes burn with such emotion that it seems like they stare into his soul.

Sena's mind goes _"eye of the Tiger"_ and levels with a glare that stares into one's skeleton.

Neither of them move. It's so silent it makes you think everyone in the stadium is watching with a bated breath.

"Now listen here, you _hellspawn_ , I did not get my _god damned organs **bruised**_ just so I could get right to tearing Shin a new one and have you _bail because you don't see a way we can win._ You're gonna stay, we're all staying and, even if I have to pull a _fucking teleportation act,_ we're cutting the score to less than 45. We're gonna lose, so _fucking be it_ , but we're walking out of this stadium fully aware that _we've humiliated Oujo_ and it's _"defence"_. You're getting in that huddle and if I need to _drag you by that pretty blonde hair of yours then **so fucking be it,**_ **"** the hateful and mania filled words fly out of Sena's mouth like fountain. He didn't even register _what_ he said before he realized he and Hiruma were only an _inch apart_ , with the quarterback staring at him like he just grew a second head.

He immediately let go of the shirt and took a step back, straightening his back.

"If you _, uh,_ can that is. I won't force you to run on fumes."

* * *

Hiruma resisted the urge to grab the shrimp and slam him against the wall.

 _This was both sublime and **disturbing.**_

Firstly, Shin had either unlocked a new, _raging beast_ part of Sena that turned him into a bastard that knew no fear or had knocked the shrimp into a new personality.

Intriguing, _yes_ , but also terribly strange.

Why was the shrimp so pent up, that he had apparently decided that today is the day _he_ turns into the tyrant of the team? _That's his fucking job!_ The shrimp can play his secretary all he'd like, inside and outside of the field. Hell, it might even make things easier but he is not putting himself above him.

Hiruma sits on a throne of fear in the field and if Sena wants that place then he's _fucking earning it._ Through _blood, tears and other bodily fluids._ And even if he does, Hiruma's not sharing, the shrimp can rest his head on his lap but _the throne?_ Hiruma's, _and nobody else._

Second of all, the shrimp wanted to play and he wanted to _humiliate Oujo._ This was like music to Hiruma's ears. The problem was that the music shouldn't be coming from Sena of all people. He knew the shrimp was an emotional mess but not this much. The fucking manager knew this midget since preschool, and this is the first he's ever heard of an outburst like this.

Third, that comment about his hair, bruised organs and being called a _hellspawn_ were neatly filed away. Neatly filed and saved for after the match _when he would grill the shrimp into hell itself._

And finally, the shrimp had fangs and his eyes were _glowing. Glowing in **orange hue**._ That actually shouldn't have been the last thing he noticed. That should've been the first thing. Bioluminescence of the irises was not... Well, _anything as a matter of fact. This was-_

 _Interesting, intriguing, disturbing, abnormal, odd, maybe useful, probably of unnatural causes._

An uncut diamond- _so many angles, so many facets, so many secrets._

 ** _Deliciously full of information._**

The shrimp most certainly _did not_ have those during the match, _where the fuck-_

Just as the shrimp realized what he was fucking doing, the light dimmed and the _fangs fucking retracted. **Retracted**. Was the shrimp _**a fucking vampire?**

Who fucking knew, the midget was full of surprises today, it seemed. Wouldn't be out of the status quo if he really did start teleporting.

He let his jersey go and proceeded to back pedal his way out of the fucking challenge he just threw. The multiple personality theory was looking awfully plausible, as of now.

Hiruma's eyes drifted from the midget. The stadium hadn't noticed what just happened. The rest of the team however did.

The players looked just about ready to _worship_ the ground Eyeshield walked on. As if the very holy spirit had come down from the sky in the form of a five foot runningback.

"But I'm still going to play, in the very least you could just watch, even if it's just that. I'm going to tear Shin apart _. I want to._ " The sharpness in Sena's tone returned. Which meant the _agression_ wasn't a fluke, the _back pedaling_ was.

Speaking of the monster himself, Hiruma saw that Shin was staring at the midget. _Intensely_. Hiruma's eyesight was impressive and with Shin in his line of sight he could see the expression on his face.

 _No way. The universe was **fucking with him today**._ There is no way _Shin Seijuuro_ was staring at Eyeshield with arguably the most _lovestruck_ face Hiruma has ever witnessed. Well, as lovestruck as _Shin's face_ can proclaim. His face had to have some form of muscle atrophy but that blush was unmistakable.

More importantly, how did Hiruma _miss the moment? When did this even happen?_

 _Fuck it,_ the match continued with him. He **_had_** to see this for himself.

"You wanna win? Against Shin?"

The glare he got in return spoke for the midget. Looked like a God damned pout.

Hiruma pressed his gun against the shrimp's helmet. The shrimp immediately moved his head out of the line of fire. Reflexes were still there, that's good enough.

"Then get in the fucking huddle!" Hiruma yelled as he grabbed his helmet.

* * *

Deimon's offence line caught Shin off guard. He had watched Eyeshield act, maybe a little too closely. The way the team fell apart, only for them to be picked up by Eyeshield's passive aggressive attitude.

It was fascinating to witness, different from the way the Oujo Knights worked.

The Knights worked like a well oiled machine.

The Devilbats worked like an awkward group of individuals, each following their command but not quite.

Well, they _had_ worked like that.

Now they were somewhat invigorated, ready to strike with everything they had.

There were barely five minutes left on the clock. These were going to be the _best_ five minutes of the match, Shin could feel it in his soul.

Eyeshield was getting faster and faster with each play. Slowly shaving off the seconds. It delighted and agitated Shin.

Shin wanted to fight against Eyeshield at his full potential and seeing him get closer and closer to it elated shin.

But Shin wanted to _win_. As great as the idea of a strong, relentless and equally motivated rival was, it didn't erase the fact that they were _the Oujo White Knights._ For them to be eliminated in the _second round? To Deimon of all teams?_

No amount of victories could bring back their honor after that.

If they were eliminated, they'd do it in the final round and with a near miss margin.

The play off rang and Shin swore Eyeshield had _flown_ with the ball in hand.

He had become even faster, sliding past Oujo's linemen almost effortlessly.

He ran towards him, eyes ablaze, leaving long exposure in his tracks. Shin could barely think as Eyeshield ran past him. Eyeshield was getting faster. _Unnaturally fast._

Shin's speed was 4.2, it was the _human limit. The total limit. The limit to all limits._ No amount of training could shave off even one tenth of a second of that time.

Shin ran after Eyeshield. He had already gotten a small head start, he was an amateur so at most he _should be 4.5-_

 _Then why wasn't the margin shrinking as fast as it should?_

Their touchdown line was barely twenty yards away, yet Shin was _still halfway to catching up-_

At ten meters and a quarter of the distance he was to Eyeshield, Shin's brain decided that, _fuck it, they will take the risk._

Shin nearly dove into Eyeshield's back and wrapped his arms around his torso, slamming them both on the seven yard mark with a small rut behind them.

That was close. That was far too close for comfort.

Shin thanked the laws of aerodynamic physics and gravity. He never thought it would work. He was too used to his personal style of tackling.

It's when he gets off of Eyeshield that he realized he was panting. Eyeshield had bounced off the ground and went back to their team.

This was the _first time_ Shin had ever tried to full-body tackle someone. _Ever._

Shin wasn't sure if he should be terrified, ashamed, proud or excited at such a statement.

The coach asked what made him feel so agitated. Shin told them it was nothing to worry about, he wouldn't get past his defence.

 _He couldn't._

 _Something like this couldn't happen again._

Not when Deimon was _ten yards away from scoring a touchdown._

He could only pray that the next play would be a pass from the quarterback to Eyeshield.

And it was. Shin's height and semi-valid experience in receiving kept them from getting the ball.

Which meant he had to get a touchdown. _Now._

Shin managed to get to the middle of the field before what felt like a small bullet train rammed into his back.

As he landed into the grass, he turned. It was Eyeshield. Eyeshield had _tackled him_. The runningback glanced at Shin, molten upturned eyes shining, and gave Shin a a smile full of teeth.

Shin's heart skipped a beat and his face heated up.

Yes. This _had to be love._

* * *

Sakuraba couldn't believe what he was seeing right now. _This couldn't be real._

It probably wasn't. _But it also probably was._

Eyeshield was running neck and neck with Shin. Shin, _their 4.2 ace of a player._ He was dodging Shin, made Shin use _traditional tackles_ , and _tackled **Shin**_ in return.

The coach was blowing a fuse at how things were going.

Yet all he could hear was the stagnant cheer of people.

Sakuraba felt disgusted at himself. _Him_ , the ace? What a joke. There was such an obvious difference in skill.

Sakuraba couldn't tell if he was comparing Eyeshield and Shin or Shin and himself.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go out there again and do absolutely nothing.

He held his head in his hands. This was a _disaster_. He couldn't do anything. Maybe, maybe they'd ride out in Defence and get an easy victory and Sakuraba could leave the scene unnoticed.

Fat chance considering how many of his fans were there and how his manager was ever present. He'd get hounded into giving out autographs or doing another interview.

He _wished_ he could escape. He _wished something changed, **anything.**_

A sparkle out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention.

The sticker.

Crap, _that was the last piece! The manager was going to kill him if he lost it!_

It fluttered in the air and Sakuraba was so caught up in trying to catch the damn thing he didn't realize it was flying into the field.

It was the very last moment, the absolute last moment when he looked up and saw that.

Full blown eyes, glowing under the clear green plastic, and a snarl, with teeth so pointed it couldn't be human. In the split second where time seemed to stop the expression that was down right bloodthirsty changed into shock and an expression that Sakuraba could only describe as _"Oh fuck"._

What happened next Sakuraba would _never be able to describe properly in all his years_. The colliding body first felt like it wasn't there, like he was hit a hot gust of wind before what felt like a literal truck rammed straight into him.

No amount of pain could compare to what Sakuraba had just felt. It was sharp and quick and continued in that manner.

Then Sakuraba felt himself hitting the ground. Momentary relief was soon replaced by shock as he _**bounced** off the grass, skidded **over the bench,** hit himself into **the wall of their cabin,** flew **into** his cabin, fell on the **second bench** and proceeded to **hit his back against the wall and bouncing off of it.**_

All while Eyeshield had barely managed to stop himself outside the Oujo cabin. Sakuraba felt like he had just hit every flat surface in a ten meter radius. He probably did.

No amount of brutal pain could compare to what just happened. Sakuraba groaned loudly as he just barely rolled onto his back, body sore and multiple parts of his chest hurting. Yells of worry felt like white noise as pain conquered his senses.

"Holy- _ARE YOU OKAY_?" yelled an unfamiliar voice. Sakuraba panted and he turned to the voice, standing there was Eyeshield, a hand on the banister of the cabin and another on his helmet, looking at him with worry.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"No, you didn't. If you did, you'd be dead."

The sentence was an afterthought in his mind as the doctor proclaimed he had broken a collarbone and had several large bruises.

For a few minutes everything was a blur. The screaming fans, the manager, the coach, the ambulance. But as he was carried off, he saw Eyeshield.

Eyeshield was getting crowded by his team-mates, all worried in their posture. All of them looking over him as he shakily dusted himself off, hand still on his head. One team-mate had stomped over the sticker as he ran to sticker that he had dropped.

Something inside Sakuraba _snapped._

* * *

Sena did not realize that today would be the day when every headache he has breaks the record for being the most painful. As well as the day for multiple panicked _breakdowns and regret._

He had just smashed into Sakuraba and made him crash into several walls. _Theoretically_ , that _shouldn't_ be possible since Sena was barely forty kilograms and Sakuraba was _probably_ twice his weight. _Physically_ , it had happened. _It really did_. And now half the stadium is mad at him for indirectly slamming Sakuraba against _six different surfaces._

Well, he thinks they're mad. The ringing was so loud Sena wondered if he was going to start _bleeding_ from the volume of it.

Sena can barely hear his team-mates struggle about to get a reaction out of him.

"'m fine." Sena slurred out. That was bad. Clearing his voice, he straightened himself. "I'm _fine_. Just a little dizzy."

"Are you sure? You look a little winded."

"I'm good."

"Eyeshield-san, we can call a time out. I mean, Sakuraba was just shipped off to the hospital, maybe we should at least check for anything?"

"Nah."

"Oi, don't tell us you got a _concussion_ from that-"

" _I'm fine!_ " Sena yelled out. He was in pain, _yes,_ but he wasn't going to leave the match. Even if the ringing bounced off his body so hard it might leave a mark." I just... Need a minute. It's really, _really loud."_

"But-"

"What are you fuckers all doing here?! He said he's _fine_ so he's _fine_. Now back to our side of the field!" Hiruma's voice cut through the noise like a sharp knife.

Sena was more thankful for the sudden peace than dismayed at the fact he had to _walk across the field. This was going to hurt._

He couldn't let the fire die out. _Not yet. Not after managing to tackle Shin_. He was so close he could taste it. _Just a little more, just-_

"Oi, shrimp." Sena's attention snapped to Hiruma. "You sure you didn't hit your head to hard?"

"Yeah the ringing is already fading." Sena replied without thinking.

 _"Ringing?"_

"Yeah, it happens a lot. But it's fine, once it's gone I'll be back on track. Might need some water. I feel nauseous."

 _"Are you fucking **sick?"**_

"No, no, just dizzy."

"You better not pass out mid-run."

"I'll try my best. Or worst. Whatever you want, you demon." Sena's mind was starting to clear up. Even so, he wasn't really sure how he was running this conversation.

"Is that an insult I hear from you?"

"It's supposed to be a compliment or do you prefer something else?" Sena asked genuinely. Hiruma glared at him momentarily before flicking his eyeshield. _"Ow!"_

"That doesn't matter. What you need to focus on right now is Shin. You think you can pass him 'till the touchdown?" Sena looked between Shin and the touchdown line.

He flexed his hand. It _burned._

"This time, this time I'll get even _faster._ I'm going to pass him no matter what."

A haughty smirk graced Hiruma's face. Sena was thankful for the eyeshield hiding his blush.

"Well said." Hiruma said as they finally reached the rest of the players, now in a huddle. "Alright, time is running out. Prepare for the final showdown!

"Up until now, because of Shin and Otawara in the center, we've always went from the side. This time we're breaking through the center! We're gonna blitz, once we pass, run straight forward."

Something about that tactic made Sena feel giddy. Giddy with anticipation.

 _'One more. One more.'_ Sena could feel his legs burn like he was standing on hot coals. _'One more battle with the Knights of war.'_

He looked over the field. Shin was in the very back, just as he was.

Something about Shin had originally made Sena feel small. Like he was suddenly aware of the world around him, the way Shin towered over him with his height and the way he honed in on him.

It's now that Sena realizes he's not making him feel small, but more open. Shin's made Sena do far too many questionable things within this half. From staying in a game of pain to physically dragging Hiruma, Shin made Sena jump out of the small metaphysical borders he set up for himself. Something about Shin was _different. Different from Hiruma, different from Takeru._

Takeru made Sena feel like he should be coming out of his borders, the faint memory of him reminding Sena that he can be better. Hiruma crossed into them and burned them down in front of Sena and then started pulling him little by little out of it, before Sena could rebuild them again, and make him forget about those borders in the first place.

Shin busted his arm right through them and gestured him to come out.

Sena's not sure how he's going to fix himself after this. Not when he's stuck with a bunch of metaphorical bricks and his mind drifting to the three people who broke them down.

It felt like as he was rebuilding everything, he slowly made his walls shorter, thinner and the range they sheltered bigger.

Maybe one day they'll be small enough for him to cross over with ease but Sena will never be sure.

Not when he's looking at this _massacre of a game, thinking he can win._

The whistle blows, the ball flies into his hands and Sena is running with an empty head and burning skull.

It's him and Kurita against Shin and Otawara. He can feel Kurita struggling to hold off Otawara. There's _a spark, a phenomenon and a connection._ Then, Kurita somehow manages to tackle Otawara and bump into Shin at the same time.

Sena doesn't need a cue. He's running, focusing on the rising crackles of fire in his spine.

His feet dig into the dirt and he's _flying._ The players are all blocking the Knights trying to tackle him, Shin got up and was now running at Sena like a crazed man. There's another player running towards Sena's front.

The entire game feels like an _insane version of capture the flag,_ except you're allowed to cause _bodily harm_ to the flag holder.

Sena doesn't think, _doesn't even breathe_ because all he can think of is trying to go faster. He has to be. He _knows he can be faster. He's going to be faster._

 _He's sick of running. He's going to win._

The fire in his bones gets hotter and hotter until Sena felt steam gathering in his clenched mouth.

It's barely a detail as he runs with the speed of light, _faster, faster-_

 _Faster-_

 _The world is a blur under the helmet as he runs, it suddenly distorts, it looks like a desert-_

 **"Touchdown!"**

The tell-tale yell of the referee snaps him out of whatever trance he was in. Sena was suddenly hit with the fact that the field was not infinite, his feet are melting and there's a clear lack of oxygen in his system.

He was about three feet away from the end of the field before he slips and falls. He's not sure if it's pure exhaustion or the fact that he forgot how to breathe. Possibly exhaustion, both physical and mental, because the brain cannot create hallucinations if it does not have any oxygen to make it out of. Sena's vaguely aware that that's _not exactly_ the biologically correct explanation but it's the closest thing to it.

There's momentary silence before the entire stadium explodes in pure yelling and screaming. Sena's entire lower body is at the brink of melting point, the ringing having been turned up to twelve and the crowd is causing _physical pain to his skull with noise alone._

The hives are on him momentarily, like something is gauging his very being before it simply leaves.

But it dawns on Sena that he's gotten _a touchdown_ and it suddenly seems worth it.

 _It's exhilarating._ It's a feeling of euphoria that couldn't compare to the victory in the Cupids match. Sena wants to feel it again.

The ground on which he lies on is incredibly comfortable.

Sena is at peace. _In pain, sweaty beyond all measure and deprived of oxygen_ but at _peace._

He is not at peace for long. Nor is he on the ground for long.

Because the peace lasts for about a moment before Sena's being crowded by his team-mates again. He can vaguely hear them either singing praises and worry loudly on whether or not he's alive. They're patting his back, gently shaking his shoulder. Sena can only give a measly but optimistic thumbs up under the influx of positive contact.

 _It's great. This is great._

"Woohoo..." Sena wheezed out. His team-mates are hoarding around him like a flock of birds to a bag of bread and it's suffocating. The overall overload of senses makes it hard for Sena to enjoy knowing he managed to score another touchdown.

"Hey, _hey!_ Get off of him! He's fine, he collapsed for dramatic effect!" And Hiruma arrived and the crowd of players parted like the Red Sea.

It's _odd_ how easily Sena can tell it's Hiruma. Hiruma stands out naturally, with the way he is. But something in the way he walks, in the way he talks leaves a unique mark in air.

A hand snakes its way to his shoulder, too close to his marked and concealed neck to be calming. It pressed down on his shoulder before giving his helmet a few soft pats.

"We really _do_ have to work on your landing."

"Sorry, forgot to breathe."

Mamori is there in an instant as well, med-kit in hand. Kurita is there as well, blocking him from view of the rest of the recruited athletes.

"Is he injured?"

"Nah, he got caught up in the moment and forgot to _breathe_." Hiruma remarked as he poked Sena in the ribs.

"I did _not-_ " Sena's voice was too hoarse to be recognisable.

"Save it. Fatass, pick him up, he doesn't have enough air in him to get back to our side of the field." Before Sena could protest, Hiruma simply _took and picked Sena up_ by his armpits like a cat and propped him up on Kurita's back.

"Sorry." _For nearly passing out on the field._ The words couldn't come out of Sena. Kurita, _bless his soul_ , seemingly understood the meaning behind the apology.

"That's because you loosened up in that instant, right?" Sena could mutely nod. He had slipped up in that single moment. Right now all he wanted to do was fall asleep, despite his previous and impossible declaration of shrinking the point difference.

"Hey, ducking dweeb." Sena looked over to Hiruma. "This time. Even though this is one of the many duels you've had with Shin,"

The sun shone on Hiruma's face, the thin layer of sweat making him somehow _glow_ in the daylight. His hair wasn't even ruffled by the helmet and his eyes were watching off into the distance before drawing his attention to Sena.

"But this time, you win." He said with a wide smirk, full of sharp teeth. Sena's heart was hammering in his chest, heat rushing to his face. He's not even sure why but the statement leaves him feeling fuzzy inside. Maybe it's the fact that Hiruma was glad he was still participating in the match, maybe it's the fact that he's looking directly at Sena with a non hostile smile or the fact that Sena managed to beat Shin.

Maybe it's all of those things, maybe it's something else but it leaves Sena with a faint blush and soft and content smile on his face as he's being carried off to the benches.

The moment was _immediately ruined_ by the itch returning. Sena's smile soured.

 _Why can't the universe give him one minute of small pleasures?_

He looked over the board.

56 and 12, Oujo in the lead. One more touchdown, _one more touchdown_ would be enough.

Minutes later and they're back on the field. If he can get one more touchdown for the last down of the offense, he could get the score down to a 36 point difference. In comparison to the previous 50 point margin, this felt not as humiliating. Well, for _Deimon at least_. Looking over the raging line of Oujo Knights and Shin staring into his very soul, Sena can only assume they're going to attempt to kill them this turn. Alright, _alright_ , he can do this.

Shin's intense stare didn't leave him for a second and Sena was slowly having second thoughts.

He unconsciously slapped the sides of his helmet. No, he wasn't going to run away. He had said it himself, they're in the deep end, they're going to lose _no matter what. He couldn't back down because he promised he'd humiliate Oujo's impenetrable defence_. Maybe it's his own spontaneous episodes of madness that he felt responsible for or maybe it was because he promised to _Hiruma_ as he promised to the team. But he had to fulfill a part of it somehow.

Maybe it's... His gaze drifted to Shin. Maybe it's because he wanted to go up against Shin more?

No, that's silly. Shin was the literal embodiment of pain and loss. He wouldn't want to do this recreationally. _Unless..._

No. _No, that's-_

Sena lifted his gaze back to Shin to look at him. To actually look at him and not just... imagine him glaring at Sena.

Shin is a tall amefuto player who's uniform was caked in dirt and muscular arms glistened in the sun. The helmet on his head didn't do much to hide the sweat rolling down his face like little marbles. His eyes stared at him intently. They were dark, very dark in contrast to Takeru's soft golden ones and Hiruma's contrasting green eyes. There was a cobalt blue sheen present. It was the type of blue that stood out on white but blended in with black. They're _elegant, like dark gemstones or-_

 _'No. Noooooooo, no stop that, Sena. Don't do it.'_ Sena thought to himself. No, he already has two people visiting him in his dreams, a third would just _make things-_

Sena shaked his head. _No! Stop, don't think about how handsome Shin looked! The match was about to start!_

* * *

Sena rolled over in the grass as the referee announced Deimon's third touchdown.

He can't _breathe, he could barely get some air into his lungs_. Deimon had been on the last offense, so Sena had decided that he was going to pull out all of the stops he had.

And somehow so did Shin. The entirety of the play was a terrifying game of tag in which every lineman had decided that Sena needed to be dog piled or the black plague was going to come to Oujo like a door-to-door salesman.

Shin in particular had gone to extreme lengths to apprehend Sena. He's pretty sure Shin attempted to throw a fellow player at him. Sena is very sure he had exhausted every ounce of luck he'll ever have in seven months to avoid every confrontation on the field.

That's not to say it was the only thing that was gone. If Sena could _somewhat_ feel his legs after the second touchdown, he was completely sure that he had lost _all feeling_ in them. The fire in his bones had gone to such lengths that it completely eclipsed the pain and left Sena wondering if he still had them.

A quick look at his lower body concluded that they were still there. Twitching every once in a while.

 _Holy shit._

Sena let his head fall back into the soft grass. He's not running next turn, _he physically can't._ He's partially sure he's stopped sweating because there is nothing _left to sweat._

"Hey, you good?" Sena turned his head and saw Hiruma crouching next to him.

"No." Sena breathed out. "Please tell me I don't have to run anymore."

"Don't worry, for you it's over. We're switching to defence until the end of the game. You can pass out on the benches until the end." Hiruma squinted at his arm. Sena looked at it. Hiruma was holding it and Sena didn't even feel it. "Oi, can you even feel anything?"

 _"I can't feel my legs."_ Sena replied.

 _"Shit."_

"It's okay, that's normal. Just _gotta-_ " Sena felt the pain return. He bent his leg towards him, which let out several worrying pops and cracks. He bent the other, same result. The pain was now back in full swing and Sena was panting. "Okay, I can-"

"FATASS, GET OVER HERE AND CARRY HIM BACK."

"I'm _FINE!_ " Sena exclaimed as he proceeded to try and get back up. Key word " _try_ ". He wobbled a bit at the sudden feeling and nearly fell over before regaining balance at the last second. His vison turned black for a second before coming back.

Standing was a new form of fresh hell as of now.

Joints were in pain while the rest of the lower skeleton was on fire and Sena was once again feeling the cold heat of a fever slowly dawn upon him.

Thank you, _every deity in Japan_ , for switching to defence. Because Sena would sooner pass out on the field than hold off Shin.

"Fucking hell, you look like shit."

" _I am shit_." Sena parroted back without thinking.

Hiruma gave no indication of any emotion at this point. All he did was grab Sena's shoulder and drag him to their side of the field.

"You're going to sit your ass down and you're going to stay down. _Or else_." That last part made Sena shiver but he was ultimately thankful for some form of rest.

"Hey."

Sena turned his head to see Shin approaching them. He looked... sweaty. _Tired_. A little bit glowing but it seemed irrelevant when his face was caked in dirt and sweat.

He seemed rather happy though. Sena couldn't wrap his head around why.

Hiruma took one look at Shin, flipped him off and proceeded to push Sena forward. Sena instead twisted his neck to still look at Shin.

"I- you-" Shin spoke before cringing at his own words. Sena could understand the pain of not knowing how to say something. The information was there,it is the execution was that was hard.

"Take your time." Sena mumbled.

"I- Oujo will be going to the Christmas Bowl." Shin forced out.

Hiruma stopped walking.

Sena was suddenly aware of the tension in the air.

 _Wait, this wasn't Deimon's first match with Oujo._ It _definitely_ wasn't. All of the players, Kurita and even some of the Oujo players gave it away.

Deimon lost the last match it had with Oujo. It kicked them out of the tournament that was last year.

Kurita and Hiruma had been gunning for winning the tournament ever since middle school. Kurita was undoubtedly heartbroken over the loss but he bounced back, maybe he forgave them, maybe he didn't but last year's loss didn't float over his head up for a year.

 _Hiruma was not that_. Sena doesn't know Hiruma well, he knows he's demonic and has a love for football, sudden favoritism in the form of real bullets and _somewhat_ understanding head pats aside. If it's any indication, Sena assumes Hiruma is an evil mastermind half-demon hellbent on destroying society and erecting himself as supreme ruler who's starting with the world of American football and has taken a shine to him for his speed and apparent contract with the _king of all demons._

It's a sentence _so loaded_ with bullshit, Sena can't believe that's his current life situation.

So if something were to stop him from achieving his plans, it doesn't take a genius to understand that there will be a most definite grudge.

Hiruma probably hates Shin's guts and wants him dead. It's not a stretch to assume.

And right now Shin is declaring that his team will be going to the Christmas Bowl, the apparent goal that Hiruma and Kurita have.

Sena has half the brain to try and grab Hiruma and abscond before someone actually dies on the field. However, Sena has another half of a brain that says Hiruma's just about reached the limit of tolerating Sena's maniac behavior, _three touchdowns against Oujo be damned._

So all he can do is stand there, eyes darting between Shin and Hiruma as true genuine fear runs through him.

Hiruma looks _livid in the most controlled way possible_ while Shin is glaring so calmly _it's almost mockery._

Sena doesn't want Shin to die. Not because he's cool and handsome, nor because his technique is as amazing as it is painful. It's because _nobody deserved to die_. His abrupt end back in October had shed a new light on existence as a whole. The entire six months had been nothing short of awful, not counting that dying itself was an _incredibly painful experience._

Anything could happen to Sena. He could get bullied, he could snap, he could turn into a villain or a _monster or a demon_. He could become the most merciless person in the world but even then, Sena would never want someone else to experience what he did.

"Oh? _Is that a challenge?_ " Hiruma finally replied. Sena is praying, _actually praying_ for Shin to choose his words as carefully as possible.

Instead, he turned to Sena, eyes bright, determined and a hint of something else in them.

"I expect you to meet us there. You can become even faster, you have the potential. And when you do, _I will be waiting for you."_

Sena immediately went braindead. His head is empty, so empty the only thing it can do is echo back the words Shin just said.

Shin...was encouraging him? _To be faster? What?_

It's not just the fact that Shin is hyping up his supposed nemesis, but the fact that it's _Shin_ that's doing this.

 _Shin,_ who Sena was convinced wanted him dead. _Shin_ , who had become his undoing this match, was hoping that they would meet at the Christmas Bowl. Shin... was looking at him not just as a person but... but as someone who's an equal. Someone who has the ability to be better than him and i _sn't mad about it._

 _Someone who he wants to be faster than him._

Sena legitimately cannot find a word for the situation. All he can do is let an awful, familiar, fuzzy feeling seep its way into his chest.

Sena was so caught up in his own confusion that he missed Hiruma snapping his fingers at him.

" _You shithead, look at what you've done. You've broken the fucking dweeb_." Sena suddenly blinks back into awareness and realised that Shin was staring at him, waiting for a reply.

"I-uh," Sena jerked back into reality. "I... I'll try not to disappoint you. You're... _really cool_ yourself. I can see myself admiring you."

Sena realized just how out of topic and out of context that sentence sounded.

Shin simply seemed shocked before nodding. He missed the blush that suddenly formed on Shin's face. And he kept nodding, even as he turned around to run back to his side. He seemed more upbeat now. Sena's wondering if he also broke Shin.

"What... what just happened?" Sena asked to no one at all. He barely even realized he turned back and walked to their side of the field.

He collapsed on the side of the wall, breathing to try and get his heart to calm down.

* * *

Hiruma felt like he had just stepped into a romantic movie. An _awfully written_ romantic movie, starring Shin _"Lovestruck Brick Wall"_ Seijuuro and Sena _"Hopelessly Dense Medical Anomaly"_ Kobayakawa. It's both hilarious and painful to witness. So fucking awkward and strained, it made Hiruma's rage and overall horrid mood dissappear.

Shin was head over heals as of now and Hiruma's personal little crown jewel was now officially _braindead_. Was the smallest hint of acknowledgement and encouragement all it took for him to suddenly be dead to the world? Fucking hell, _this was ridiculous._

 _And useful._ Not every runningback got acknowledged by _Shin **fucking** Seijuuro_ so maybe the shrimp's non-existent backbone might finally form. The fact that Seijuuro wanted Sena to be better and faster meant that Shin was now hooked on a feeling found only in one person and one person only.

Hiruma smirked. _One of a kind diamond_ indeed, if he manges to have Shin ready to declare his rivalry right on the spot. The feeling wasn't unwarranted, though. Sena got them three touchdowns against Oujo. Their fucking coach looked like he was foaming in the mouth.

And who knows, maybe if they hang out long enough, Sena might overhear some of Oujo's strategies. He'll probably get a few bruises on the way but details.

With the shrimp now seated, safe and sound and away from possibly dying on the field, Hiruma could focus on more important things. Like making sure the score stayed the same with this team of idiots.

Which was easier said than done when Oujo switched to offense.

The fatass was doing his job in keeping Otawara in his place. The rest of them, _not so much._

Before they knew it, Oujo got a touchdown.

And they were going to keep getting touchdowns but who said it was going to be easy? Not with him as captain.

Hiruma's ears suddenly perked up.

"Thanks Mamori-sis." Hiruma's neck almost cracked with how fast he turned to the shrimp. _Little fucker was going to get his whole identity compromised!_ Hiruma might just kill him for that. Even if he was currently choking on his drink and mistakes.

"Are you," Hiruma grabbed a gun, ready to fire into the air. If the jig was up, then the best he could do was minimize witnesses. Nobody had to die per say, but people would definitely hear the gun over the sudden revelation. Plus, it'd scare the shit out of everyone. That never gets old. "Sena's friend? Did Sena tell you to call me that?"

 _...Prejudice can be so cruel._ Hiruma pitied the first-year. If the fucking manager couldn't tell that her dear traumatized childhood friend was the one ripping the team brownie points from the media- _they're gonna lose but they got touchdowns against Oujo, that's a scandal level achievement-_ then either her perception of him was beyond skewed or the shrimp's acting was paying off.

Hiruma ignored a bit of the conversation. Crisis avoided, back to the game.

"But Sena went shopping during the beginning of the match and he hasn't come back yet. I'm getting worried, it's not like him to take so much time."

"It, it could be because of the fans. He went for tapes, so maybe the line was too long?" Sena's measly defence did little to soothe the manager's nerves. Oh, right, Sena had _"gone for tapes"_. And hadn't been back for almost forty minutes.

"He came back during the break. Right now he's on the bleachers taking pictures. When you're taking pictures in football, the best place to do it is from a high point." He said.

"Thank goodness."

The manager bought that easily enough. Not like it was a problem, he could get the pics from Sakuraba's fangirls.

"He's been better. But it's not great. I wish I could help him get over whatever happened, even if a little. But I guess he needs to be his own person eventually." The manger sighed. "If only- no, nevermind."

Huh, guess the manager knew how to be tight-lipped. If she told Eyeshield about their _"collaboration project"_ it could lead to the shrimp to try and hide away even more. That wasn't good considering his main goal was to find out what exactly happened and maybe find their mysterious culprit and _...relieve them of their fingers_. Different types need different stripes, there's no universal method for getting rid of trauma. If it were, thousands, _millions_ of people would be living their lives happier than they do now.

A whistle blowed, signifying another touchdown. God fucking damn it. Losing never felt easy. It made Hiruma feel like shit, both at himself and his skills. But this result was obvious from the start.

After the handshake and bow, both teams made their way back to their sides. Now this was where the real spoils of war came.

Deimon may have lost, but Hiruma was about to cash in on Oujo's so called _"impenetrable defence"_ being broken thrice and by _Deimon of all teams._

The shrimp had gone to change out of uniform and was already back, without even a hint of being winded. The manager was relieved to see him relatively unharmed but his disheveled appearance made her fret. For fucks sake, Sakuraba's fans can be considered their own type of feral, of course anyone is going to come back looking a little messed up.

"Uh, when I was coming down a lot of the people got really pushy. But it's fine! I didn't get pushed. Much. Besides, I got some pictures of the Oujo team." Sena was quick to jump on the cover story. Good.

"Did you get one of Eyeshield? We ought to thank the guy, he carried the whole match." Ishimaru asked. "Where is he by the way?"

And then Sena started weaving an elaborate story of how he saw Eyeshield on his way, who said he got a call from a relative and that something came up and so on. Midget had a knack for making up imaginary scenarios, that's for sure.

"Oi, quit crying, fatass. We lost last year, too."

"I know, it still hurts though. We didn't even get half of the points they did."

"Heh, _so what?_ We got something better instead. We'll get revenge this fall." Hiruma said. Kurita looked at him, confused.

The TV crew was approaching them and Hiruma began to take off his glove. _Showtime._

"Excuse me, may I have-" Hiruma didn't even let her finish before smashing his inked palm right into the camera.

" _Deimon Devilbats! Managed three touchdowns in a match against the Oujos!"_ His menacing face was enough to get the crew to run for the hills. Like he said, _never gets old._

With that, the rest of the team dispersed to their own devices.

"Hiruma." Hiruma saw the manager approach him. "About the... _collaboration_."

She looked displeased mentioning the word.

"I asked around. Most of them didn't know where he was at the time but I got a lead."

Now she had his full attention.

"He was last seen running to the west residential area around four o'clock."

"The one with no street safety regulations?"

"...Yeah."

"Why the fuck would he go there?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was chased? It happened after school so-"

"So the twerp made some enemies and they pigeonholed him into a place where car accidents are common." Hiruma popped a stick of gum into his mouth. The manager glared at him.

" _Sena would never_. He's too nice to have enemies. I don't think anyone would actually pick a fight with him." Hiruma thought back to the day when he found him being pressed up against the wall, grilled for answers and today when he aggrivated an entire team of seasoned amefuto players.

"People change, Anezaki. There's no guarantee the Sena we see now is the Sena you know. He's hiding things. And _nobody_ has the right to hide things from me."

* * *

Hiruma walked into the dark room. It was dusty, considering that Hiruma hadn't really been here to store last months evidence. Too many things to worry about to overwrite disks with new data and videos.

He flipped the light switch on and the lights flickered before lighting up.

He's been doing it ever since middle school, along with raising an army of blackmailed slaves. Cameras in every corner, the feed going into his laptop, which he then stores into different folders, saves it in disks and hides them away in his archive.

Two years of visual information on all of Tokyo, all neatly filed away by area via boxes of disks.

A mine of yet to be found blackmail, beautifully arranged on steel shelves in boxes with labels, with just a chair and a table in the farther part of the room.

There's no noise with the exception of the electric buzz of the lights. It's almost _quiet. Peaceful_ even. It unnerved Hiruma.

Hiruma was used to gunshots, screams, explosions, his own laughter filling the air. He lived in chaos and motion. Administration and all of that sort never suited him.

As if reading his thoughts, Cerberus started running around the room going past and around shelves. He knows better than to go under them, quite possibly knocking several shelves over and issuing chaos to the whole room. The mutt hasn't been able to do much besides sit inside an iron cage for the entirety of the match. So sudden bursts of energy were to be expected.

Hyperactive little fucker.

Hiruma whistled for the dog to return. The sound of nails hitting the floor and running came with Cerberus with dust clouds in his wake.

He wasn't gone for _that long._ Some things simply took up more of his time.

"Guard the door. I need to check some things."

The dog barked but ultimately went to lie down near the door, ear pressed to the wall.

Hiruma then started going over the boxes, wiping off the dust on the labels. It wasn't long before he found a box labeled _"west residential area"_. He took it and went to the desk in the back of the room.

It was one of the few pieces of furniture that didn't have a thick layer of dust on it. Setting the box down, he started to look through the contents.

Two disks labeled _"October"_ caught his eye. He snatched both of them. Checking the year, he put the older one back before placing the newer on the desk. He grabbed his spare laptop and inserted the disk.

The story of Sena Kobayakawa is a simple one: on a sunny day in October, the midget ran out of the school into west residential area, most likely being chased. For approximately five hours, his status remains MIA and he returned with a severe fear of cars, pain, doctors and Hiruma's face.

Not a single soul knew what happened in those five hours. No one but Sena knew the truth.

Well, no one but Sena and, _soon enough_ , Hiruma.

Finding the folder of the date, Hiruma opened a map of the city. A red line was traced from Maou middle school to somehwere close enough to the area.

"Alright, midget, let's see who's getting maimed tomorrow."

He moved the time frame to the one that matched the disappearance and pressed play on the first video. One by one, he'll retrace Sena's steps, narrow down a number of witnesses, maybe even get a glimpse of the fucker who had the _balls_ to walk around, parading a _parody of his face_ and _hurting his assets_ like he ran this show.

Hiruma was nothing if not proud of his intellect and adaptability. Every step, every plan was meticulously planned. He didn't flaunt it, he used it as it is. His _face and reputation was his permit_ to anything and everything in this side of Japan. _He made sure of it._

If some ballsy shithead thinks they can go around doing stuff without him knowing about it, _then this was personal._

Truthfully, this was personal the minute Sena's reaction to his face was known. This was personal because someone thinks they can copy what he is. This was personal because someone thinks they can do something without him catching scent of it. This was personal because some shithead made it twenty times harder for Hiruma to create a runningback that would redefine the very definition of running. This was _personal-_

 _Because someone thinks they can walk into his plans and act like they're the biggest dick in the room._

Well, not for long. If Hiruma could recall every awful thing he's done, his criminal record would be a mile long. He hasn't tortured anyone yet but, hey, _what's a drop in the bucket at this point?_

Not necessarily physical torture. It's easy to find new and creative ways to torture someone. Could ruin his life with a rumor, could freeze every bank account he has, could blackmail him into fearing for his very life. Decisions, decisions. _All of them interesting._

Suddenly, the middle school midget himself runs into view. Hiruma paused the video. There's no doubt about it, that's his red diamond runningback. But the more Hiruma looks at him, the more he realizes that the shrimp of the past and present are not quite the same person.

There's a difference in his eyes. As scared as Sena's face seems, it's not the height of fear. It's the same fear a student has for when he realizes he's running late. Those brown eyes lack eyebags, they're not spinning around in his skull looking for a way out. There's a light in those eyes.

There _used to be_ a light in those eyes. Hiruma's teeth grind against themselves. He takes note of the address, draws the red line down the map to meet it, plays the video and moves on to the next street in which Sena turned to for escape. But not before watching for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't _really chased._

Moving on to the next recording, he grabbed some of his spare equipment- _guns, knives, the usual-_ and started using his anger for something more productive. Gotta make sure his murder weapons stay sharp and functional.

The cycle continued for a grand total of twelve times. The route the shrimp has taken is now nothing short of a long squiggle along the roads of the map.

Hiruma was about to press on to the next video before he stopped. There it was again, that feeling. That eerie feeling that _something was wrong_ , that something _doesn't feel right._

 _This one was going to have answers,_ Hiruma realized. Recording number thirteen, _what a fucking coincidence._

Playing the video and moving to the estimated time, Hiruma saw that there were a few pedestrians in the street. Witnesses, good. Someone he can actually harass for answers.

No sign of a car, some people were even walking outside on the street but close to the sidewalk.

The shrimp entered the scene, stopping to look around. Of course, the midget got _lost._ The midget, after looking both ways, took a left. Closer to the camera.

 _This is immediately the moment when things go horribly wrong._

 ** _And they do._**

Because in the next second there's a car barrelling towards Sena and the boy barely has any time _to comprehend that there is a car about to hit-_

Hiruma's hand slam on the dash key, a few frames before the impact. He needs to _watch_ , he _needs to continue watching_ because if he doesn't he'll _never know why or how or who._ But his hands can't will themselves to press the button.

 _His hands **weren't** shaking, _he's telling himself. _They're **not** shaking, he isn't on the edge of his seat, his heart isn't beating a **hundred times a minute** nor is his brain thinking of a **million scenarios and all of them ending with Sena being-**_

 _He is._ He's teling himself he's not but it's all happening and he can't bring himself to look further.

Because when he looks in the screen, the image of Sena, not too different from the Sena he knows, is standing there, with no way to dodge the car. His expression is nothing short of pure _fear, panic and regret. His body has zero muscle mass to protect his bones and organs from the impact-_

Hiruma shuts his eyes.

 _Fuck. **Fuck** , c'mon Hiruma, play the fucking recording._

It's either this or Sena will forever remain near lifeless, terrified of the street because of some guy that looks like he could be Hiruma's _uncle or something._

He rested his head into his hands. _Breathe in, breathe out._ He _had_ to do this. It's this or _no progress at all._

His hands rub against his face until his fingers are pressed together between his nose and his thumbs are against the bottom of his cheekbones.

He looked at the screen.

The screen looked back at him, _mocking him_ and _his inability to do anything about it_. Because it's _already happened._ It was _real_ , now it's _not_ and Hiruma can't do _jackshit_ about it.

It's a disgusting feeling. Hiruma laughed bitterly at the thought. _He has feelings, **what the fuck?**_

Hiruma took one last breath before steeling himself for the vehicular manslaughter that was about to happen.

He pressed the play button.

 ** _He wished he didn't._**

Because what he sees next is _Sena's body painfully contorting_ under the impact of the car that sends him **flying right into a wall**. Blood gets smeared as the momentum drags the boy's body _across the wall_ until it **flies into the sidewalk and stops with a roll**. Sena's front is facing the camera. Hiruma's eyes meet the wide, lifeless brown eyes of Sena's corpse.

He hits pause, runs to the trashcan at the very end of the room and promptly vomits his entire dinner out.

A noise of _pure anguish_ leaves him as the last of the bile leaves his system. His hands are clawing at his hair, arms barely supported by the iron bin as his body shakes.

He's trying _to breathe- he can't- he closes his eyes and all he sees-_

Another pained noise leaves his throat as his body tries to curl in on itself.

His eyes are wide open, anything better than seeing the after image of _Sena's dead body, lying on the ground_ with blood smeared on the ground and _dripping down the wall._

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, god **damn it, DAMN IT, SHIT, WHAT THE F-**_

A cold nose sniffing his bicep and his ear brought him back to reality.

 _Cerberus._

Cerberus left his post because Hiruma just vomited his entire dinner out and was about to have a mental breakdown from seeing his too soft underclassman _die on footage._

Cerberus left his post because he was _worried. About **Hiruma.**_

 _Fuck._ What the hell is it with today, is the universe suddenly deciding that _today is the day_ that the natural order of things should crumble?

Has to be. _Really, it has to be._

Cerberus' snout has manged to worm it's way through Hiruma's shoulder and was now licking at his ear.

 _Gross._

It's enough to get Hiruma to remove himself from the bin and look at the mutt.

Cerberus looks back at him, silent.

Hiruma grabs the dog's head and starts messing with the soft fur and ears. Cerberus hates it when he does that because Hiruma's hands manage to encompass the dog's snout and ruffle his fur. It earns him a huff of displeasure but nothing more.

Hiruma took a deep breath. His brain comes back from the trenches of stress and starts processing what he just saw.

The video was in October of last year. _Last year. It's already happened. The scene of death had already taken place yet **Sena-**_

 _Sena was still **alive and breathing,** sleeping and eating and doing all sorts of human things._

It also suddenly puts a new, _awful perspective_ into every sentence Sena has spoken about him dying.

 _"Please don't kill me."_

 **He was afraid of him.**

 _"Alive. That's hard to believe."_

 **He couldn't believe he managed to survive.**

 _"But what if I'm already dead?"_

 **He genuinely thought this couldn't be real, just a fabrication of his life flashing before his eyes.**

 _"No, but I am nothing more than a soft bag of muscle and meat which happens to move at light spee. Shin's going to **smear my guts across the field. I'll die."**_

 **He was sure Shin was going to do what that car did to him.**

Hiruma clenched his jaw, firmly ignoring the bitter aftertaste.

 _A new, horrifying perspective._

 _Still._ Sena was there, back in his home, well and alive albeit extremely traumatized. Which means he _survived._

Hiruma needs to know _how_. And why he seemed so scared of him.

Hiruma got up and made his way back to the computer. The sound of nails tapping against the floor followed him.

Hiruma turned around and saw Cerberus following him.

"Back to the door with you. Mush, I'll give you a treat after this."

The dog remained unmoving.

"A cutlet."

His ears perked up but still no movement.

"A porkbelly."

That got the dog moving back to his spot. Stubborn, opportunistic dog.

Sitting behind the desk, he was met with the picture of Sena's dead body looking straight at him.

Hiruma clenched his jaw. Even years of seeing Agon beat grown Yakuza men into submission couldn't help Hiruma here. Because when that shitty mophead did it, it was surprisingly clean and even tidy. Plus none of them were exactly dead nor were they close acquaintances.

This was a scene straight out of a gore movie with his _runningback as the victim._

Hiruma rubbed his eyes before looking back. Something strange was in the picture.

One, the people were already running towards Sena, some with their phones out, most likely calling an ambulance.

Two, the car, which was also now tainted with blood, had fucking stopped. In the middle of the street.

 _Something new was about to happen._

Hiruma pressed play.

Sena's eyes slowly closed on the scene. The pedestrians were looking between Sena and the bloody wall in panic, with one on the phone already calling an ambulance.

 _Then the jackass driving the car stepped out._

Hiruma paused again, this time focusing on the man from the car. The guy wasn't facing the camera, so all Hiruma had was his back. The man was wearing a suit, custom made no doubt, with a cane in one hand. Said hand had a decent amount of scars. Long, white hair cascaded down his back, messy and littered with split ends.

This fucker was leaning over the top of the car like hitting a middle schooler was a daily occurrence.

 _Not a hint of panic in his body language._

Hiruma was already sneering at the man.

Then he noticed something.

The man, this _**dumbass** with a driver's licence_, had pointed ears. _Elongated, pointed ears._

 _Just like Hiruma._

Hiruma tensed. Maybe, just _maybe_ he's found the bastard himself.

He pressed play again.

The man sighed and shook his head before snapping his fingers-

All of the witnesses fell to the ground. _What. **What?!**_

Hiruma rewinded the video.

The man snapped his fingers and the rest of the people in the vicinity dropped like logs. Almost as if all of them had instantaneously gone unconscious. Hiruma rewinded the clip twice, thrice, _four times_ yet couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

This guy snaps his fingers, and everyone in a ten meter radius drops dead.

 _What the fuck..._

Hiruma decided to continue watching. The man then left his car, not even bothering to close the door, and approached Sena.

Who's eyes were fighting to stay open as blood pooled on the ground.

The guy stood over the boy, head turning to look over the body. Not even _one fuck_ given, Hiruma was going to shoot this guy in the balls.

The man then backed up and _kicked Sena's corpse onto it's back._

Hiruma's vision went red. **_This fucking-_**

Sena's chest shook as he coughed, blood coming out of his mouth. His eyes were barely open. He wasn't dead but he was damn well dying. And this fucker is _kicking his corpse for shits and giggles._

Hiruma wishes he could wrap his hands around the man's neck and _squeeze_ until every last drop of life drains from his face.

Sena then seemed to be moving his mouth. They were talking. Then the guy crouched down, almost as if to get a better look at Sena.

And then he took and _smashed the bottom of his cane right **into Sena's neck.**_

Sena, in turn, screamed in pain.

 _And the screen turned to static._

Hiruma's nails were leaving scratch marks on the back of the laptop. His thumbs were poking holes into the screen.

The video remained static.

Hiruma didn't even notice that he was gripping the computer in a vice until the screen _cracked._

Fuck. Well, it's not like it was his. It was just a spare.

Hiruma fast forwarded the video. _He needed answers. **Now.**_

Ten minutes, then twenty, then _forty, then an hour._

 _Static._

 _Static._

 _Nothing but static._

Then, an hour and ten minutes after the accident, the screen regained motion.

Sena's body was _gone_. The blood on the wall and pavement was _gone_. The people were still lying on the ground.

Pointy eared bastard was nowhere in sight.

Until he came round the corner.

Hiruma paused the video. This fucker... _this fucker really did look a lot like him._

Pointed ears, sharp canine teeth with a lit cigarette in-between. Sharp, red eyes that looked at the view of a dozen unconscious people with little to no care. A hand merrily swaying with his walk and another on the bloody cane.

 _Son of a bitch, he was going to beat this **bastard with his own walking**_ ** _stick._**

The man was making his way back to his car when he spotted Hiruma's camera.

 _ **Shit.**_

He looked straight into it with a bored, mildly surprised expression.

And then his face split into the most annoyingly hideous grin Hiruma had ever seen. A legitimate shit-eating grin.

The bastard took his cigarette out and waved at him, like he was saying _hi. The fucker was mocking him._

And the screen turned to static again.

Hiruma slammed the computer shut, breaking the screen off its hinges and ejecting the disc.

(Belial: OwO? What's this?)


End file.
